


Grey Sunsets

by Orchid_Haven



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Also lots of sibling-like relationships, Also therapy through FRIENDSHIP, Alt. Alt. title OC slowly becomes a mom to angsty teens against her will, Alt. title OC feeds all the KH characters, Family Dynamics, Mentions of anxiety and PTSD, Minor Original Character(s), More like a UA, Multi, Original Character-centric, Romance here and there, Seriously those kids need to eat, Universe Alterations, mild AU, single dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchid_Haven/pseuds/Orchid_Haven
Summary: Despite a lifetime of feigning ignorance, deep down, Myra always knew that something about her wasn't...right.Like a puzzle piece that didn't fit, a joke no one was in on, an abnormality that made even the world tilt its head in confusion, it always seemed like some freaky phenomenon was just waiting to sneak up on her when her back was turned.Now, she's about to be proven right in the worst way possible.Swallowed up and dumped into a universe with logic that would make Bill Nye weep in confusion, stuck with a power she doesn't understand, and burdened with a duty that she isn't prepared to take on, Myra will discover things about herself that she would have rather remained hidden for the rest of time.And to top all that off, there's this trigger-happy teenager with a bizarre illness whose only goal in life seems to be to make Myra's just a little more difficult.
Relationships: Ansem the Wise & OC, Axel & OC, Demyx/OC
Kudos: 11





	1. Tiramisu

__

_"You'll not take her…you'll not take her..." mumbled the woman with glazed eyes. Her fingers strangled the handle of the black blade such that her bruised, sweaty knuckles turned white. Though her arm shook violently as it held the weapon aloft, the swarm of shadows lingered in hesitation._

_One moment, there was chilling silence. The next, a piercing scream tore through the air._

_The shadows rapidly scattered, startled by the wails of agony coming from the outsider. The woman dug the blade into the ground as her opposite hand clutched her swollen abdomen. Her body arched away from the cold, hard stone as she threw her head back with a shrill cry. Tears escaped from her clouded eyes as a soft, broken mutter passed through her lips,_

_"Ansem… Ansem…"_

* * *

"Myra, this stupid register froze again!" shouted the redhead standing at the podium, acrylic nails tapping irritated patterns into the granite. Ignorant to the growing aggravation of its user, the register display remained suspended in an amalgamation of the _'sales'_ and the _'manager functions'_ screens.

"Myra!" repeated the redhead upon receiving no response.

"I hear you, stop yelling across the restaurant," the woman in question finally replied, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Shit!" The redhead jumped in surprise, one hand flying to rest over her heart. The two women looked at each other, one with wariness, the other with faint confusion.

"Good lord girl, you nearly gave me a damn heart attack!" the former exclaimed. "I wasn't the one shouting loud enough for the people next door to hear, Arista," the latter countered with a quirked brow. Arista huffed and waved her hand in disregard. "Whatever, whatever, just fix the register."

Without a word, Myra slid in to take Arista's spot by the podium. She had barely touched the screen before Arista let out yet another squawk of outrage. "Steven didn't put all the chairs up again! Oh, when I see that boy again, I swear I'm gonna-"

Myra ignored her manger's angry rambling as she pulled out the keyboard to commence a forced restart on the register. Arista stomped by lugging about four chairs as Myra tended the device, accidentally hitting the decorative paperweight as she passed. Without looking away from the screen, Myra reached out to steady it.

The disgruntled manager returned not two minutes later, once again gathering up as many chairs as she could. As she passed the podium, Myra spotted one of the chair legs coming right for the register out of her peripherals. Hand shooting out, she managed to lift the leg of the chair just so that it passed over the head of the register rather than ramming directly into it. Myra paused only to roll her eyes before refocusing on her task.

She had barely convinced the machine to shut down and reset when Arista came trudging by yet again, cursing as she fumbled with the infernal chairs. This time, the redhead had stacked them in such a way that when she walked by the podium, the back of one nearly clocked Myra in the head. Saving herself with a quick duck, Myra allowed herself to shoot an incredulous glance at her manager's retreating form. "Arista, would you mind walking a bit further away from me when you're carrying five chairs at once?" she deadpanned.

Arista turned around with wide eyes, as if she'd forgotten that Myra was even there. "Oh, sorry 'bout that, honey. I'm just a little high-strung right now. We should'a finished closing this place up ten minutes ago."

"I'm aware," replied Myra, fixing her eyes back on the register's screen as it flared to life. "How's the register comin' along?" Arista inquired, approaching the podium to peer over Myra's shoulder. "It'll be up and running in the next few minutes."

"Hm, good." The redhead gave the register a dirty look. "That's the third time this week that this hunk a' junk spazzed out on me. I'm about ready to chuck it through the window of the Apple store across the street!" Myra gave a bare hint of a smile. "Well, aren't you the epitome of professionalism."

Arista ranted on, as if she hadn't even heard her coworker's comment. "Well, I've been tellin' your momma to replace the damn thing for months now! But every time I bring it up, she comes back with, _'oh, well, I could ask Jung Soo to look at it,'_ and I tell her, _'NO Estelle, I want you to actually sit your ass down at your husband's fancy computer rig and order a new register!'_ Then she looks at me like I'm losin' my goddamn mind! Now don't get me wrong, you now how much I love your momma, but lord, that woman knows how to test me!"

Myra followed her boss' passionate rant with an eloquent shrug. "These things aren't cheap, and Estelle's always been a penny pincher. She won't replace the register unless she has no choice."

Arista groaned, pushing a couple stray dreadlocks out of her face. "Maybe I'll _'accidentally'_ ram Steven's head through it. Then she'll have to get a new one!"

Myra snorted. "I'm sure the jail time would be worth it," she remarked dryly.

"Don't you give me that!" Arista declared, wagging a finger in her coworker's face. "I haven't forgotten about the time that you _'accidentally'_ cut one of the gas lines in that crappy old oven, forcing Estelle to get us a new one!"

"That was completely different," Myra replied without missing a beat, "that piece of shit was making it nearly impossible to cook our food right. I just did what I had to." As she started to walk away, her manager called out, "Hey, go make sure Denny's finishing up his tasks before you clock out!" Myra gave a thumbs up, but didn't turn to acknowledge Arista, leaving the redhead to sigh. "That girl, I swear. Can never tell if she's jokin' or not when she talks like that."

The kitchen doors swung open to reveal a man hunched over a deep sink, scrubbing away at its sides. "Is that your last task?" asked Myra, coming up behind him. The man, Denny, turned briefly to acknowledge her.

"Oh yeah, I'm about done," he yanked the stopper out of the sink to emphasize his point. "Did you finish prep?" Myra asked over the gurgling sink. "A-yup." Denny replied with an exaggerated nod, popping the 'p.' Gesturing towards the walk-in refrigerator, he added, "You can go check if you want."

Myra waved the offer away. "That's okay. Did you clean the bake case?"

Rather than look affronted by her questions, Denny gave a proud smile and said, "I sure did."

"And you dusted under the bar?" affirmed Myra. She watched as the smile slipped off his face. "…Drat," Denny muttered before making a beeline for the broom closet.

A lightly amused smile tugged at Myra's lips as she approached the task sheet hanging on the bulletin board to sign off on her own tasks for the day. "How the heck do you always remember what tasks I have?" asked a bemused Denny as he walked past with a handful of dusting cloths. "Probably because _I_ write up the task sheets, Denny," she replied without turning around.

"Oh…hehe, that's right," her coworker admitted with a sheepish grin. Myra gently returned it as she said, "You should finish with the bar and clock out before Arista kicks you out."

"Aye, sir!" Denny acknowledged with a mock salute before exiting the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, Myra peeked around the corner. "I knew he'd leave it open," she sighed, making her way around to the broom closet.

The sour scent of disinfectant and medical supplies hit her nose as she approached the ajar door. Reaching for it, she absently looked down-

Myra jumped back with a sharp gasp, pressing herself against the wall behind her.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Three times.

Taking a tentative step forward, Myra searched the closet's floor with her eyes.

Nothing was there.

Swinging the door shut, she sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm.

The stress was finally getting to her. Sure, that was it.

Myra walked with haste out of the kitchen, hesitating only a moment when flipping the lights off. It only took her a moment of reflection to convince herself that she most definitely hadn't just seen a large, bug-like black creature in the broom closet.

"Incoming!" came the sudden voice of her boss.

Myra snapped to attention, just barely managing to step out of the way as Arista barreled by with two chairs occupying one arm, and the register drawer in the other. "You go ahead and clock out, Myra. I just need to count the till, then I can take ya' on home," the redhead advised as she kicked open the office door and slipped inside. Myra gave a flat "okay," in response, not really caring if Arista heard or not.

After clocking out, she noticed Denny still behind the bar. Though she couldn't see him, the telltale sound of bottles and glasses clanking together as they were moved around gave his presence away.

"About done?" inquired Myra as she approached, leaning over the bar top. The top half of Denny's body was sheathed inside the bar, so his voice was muffled when he replied, "That I am!" He emerged from beneath the counter, pushing his chestnut curls out of his face.

"I, uh," Denny began, looking somewhat uncomfortable, "I had to kind of…clean around everything. I thought taking everything out would take too long. Sorry I didn't do it like you prefer."

Rather than comment on his concerns, Myra said, "I'm not your superior, Denny. You don't have to treat me like I am just because my parents own this place."

Denny rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, you're right. But still, you've been working here since you were, what, sixteen? And you've been training with Mrs. Do for even longer than that. You may not officially be the boss, but you basically have the same status as one around here," he paused amidst wiping the bar top, "don't tell Ms. Arista I said that."

Myra didn't return his teasing grin. Instead, she turned around and crossed her arms as she leaned against the bar. "By the way…did you see anything weird in the broom closet when you were in there?" Denny blinked, taken aback by the change of subject. "Uh…no? Don't think I did. Why, did you?"

Shoulders slumping, Myra said, "Never mind." Denny frowned in confusion, but allowed her to drop the subject.

The two were treated to a mere five seconds of quiet. Then-

"Denny! Boy, what are you still doing here!? Get outta here, we've already gone over payroll!" barked a haggard-looking Arista as she fumbled with her keys. "Sorry, boss!" Denny replied with nervous laughter before making himself scarce.

"Myra, you get your stuff and go on out to my car, I'll be there just as soon as I lock up," the redhead sighed.

With no verbal reply, Myra obeyed.

While making her way to Arista's parking spot, she found her gaze drawn to the sky. As far back as she could remember, there hadn't been a single night sky that she hadn't caught herself looking up at. Sometimes, it almost felt as if something physically pulled her to stare upwards into the night.

Myra couldn't say why she did it. It wasn't as if there was anything interesting to look at up there, especially in the middle of downtown Dallas, where nary a star was visible.

She especially couldn't explain the puzzling melancholy she always felt when no stars were out.

A heavy sigh interrupted Myra's musings. "Alright, baby doll. Let's call it a night." Arista unlocked her hot pink Volkswagen Beetle, allowing them to climb in.

Myra's nose scrunched in mild aggravation as the manager turned on her music, _"I won't say I'm in love"_ from Hercules blasting through the speakers. She'd never understood Arista's obsession with Disney music, but Myra refrained from complaining.

They drove in companionable silence, both too exhausted for conversation. Over the next half hour, Myra watched out the window as the skyscrapers and neon lights of downtown changed into individual homes and narrow roads of the suburbs. Her phone buzzed a couple of times, but she ignored it.

They soon pulled into a gated community and up to a moderate two-story home. The humid night air greeted Myra as she stepped out of Arista's car. Though it was only May, the weather had already begun warming significantly, making her curse Texas for its love of the heat.

"Thanks for the ride, Arista," said Myra. "No problem, honey. You tell your momma I said hello!" the redhead replied with a tired grin.

Myra had barely started turning around when her manager called out, "Oh hey, you're leavin' tomorrow, right?"

When she nodded, Arista let out a groan. "Great, Monday's gonna be a hell on earth."

"I'll only be gone for a few days. You'll survive," Myra placated with a wry smile. Arista waved her off with a huff. "Yeah, yeah. Just get goin' already, have a safe trip, honey."

She had barely uttered "goodnight," in return before Arista was speeding off, the Beetle's tail lights disappearing down the street.

Upon entering the house, Myra was greeted by the sight of her younger brother, Charlie – who was acting as their home's resident couch potato, as usual.

"Ew, you're home?" drawled the teenager, keeping his gaze fixed on his video game.

"Ew, you still haven't moved from that spot? I'm surprised your ass hasn't fused with the cushions yet," Myra countered, shooting her brother a withering glare.

"Yeah well, _I'm_ surprised that you still haven't bothered to pull that stick out of your own ass," Charlie shot back.

"And _I'M_ surprised that Kelsey is still dating you, considering that you yourself are a huge ass."

It was this comment that finally drew her brother's attention, and Myra smirked in amusement as he scowled at her. She then headed for the kitchen, giving a mighty roll of her eyes when Charlie called out his favorite and most unoriginal insult-

"You're adopted!"

"I'm aware," Myra yelled back, unimpressed.

Estelle was sitting at the kitchen table, several accounting books spread out in front of her. When her daughter entered the kitchen, she eyed her with relief. _"Dios mio,_ you're finally home! I was starting to get worried! Did you not get my texts?"

Myra set her purse and bag on the table as she replied, "I didn't look at them yet." Estelle furrowed her brows, looking mildly displeased, but didn't push the topic. Instead, she turned her attention to the large take out bag on the table. "Is that all of the leftovers tonight?" When Myra nodded, Estelle sighed in relief. "Good. We don't have much room left in the fridge."

Digging through the bag, Myra pulled out a plastic container to show her mother. "We even had a slice of tiramisu left." Estelle's brow arched in surprise. "Really? I can't remember the last time we didn't sell out of that before noon!"

"Yeah, especially when I make it," teased Myra as she started shoving the other leftovers into the fridge. "Excuse me!? And who exactly taught you how to make tiramisu in the first place, huh?" Estelle chided, gesturing at her daughter with a pen. "Andrew Rea," Myra responded without missing a beat.

She then had to duck in order to avoid being struck in the head with the pen.

"Oh, _Hija_ , you're asking for it!" Estelle bellowed, trying to appear angry, but the amused twinkle in her eye gave her away. Allowing herself a light chuckle, Myra held up her hands in surrender. "I'm kidding, Estelle, I'm kidding." Her mother let out a huff. "For your own good, you had better be!" A light peal of laughter passed between them.

"I'm gonna take this to Jung Soo before Charlie finds it," said Myra, picking up the tiramisu. "Good luck getting his attention, he's been holed up in his office all day," replied Estelle as she turned her attention back to the accounting books. "I have my ways," Myra called as she rounded the corner that would lead to her father's office.

Not bothering to knock, she swung open the door of the dark room. The only light source in the office was coming from the two monitors, the outline of Jung Soo's hunched form in front of them. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Myra flipped on the overhead light. Her father shouted in protest, forehead hitting the desk as he covered his face.

"How many times have I told you to keep a light on in here while you're working? Your eyes are barely functioning as it is," she scolded, approaching Jung Soo's desk.

 _"Aish_ , this girl…she wants to kill me. I take her in, and this is how she repays me?" the man lamented through pitiful groans. "You're being dramatic, _abeoji,_ " sighed Myra as she rubbed her father's back.

Though Estelle had told her as much, it was obvious that Jung Soo hadn't left his office in quite a while; the desk was littered with half empty coffee mugs, open packages of beef jerky and chips, and several scattered folders.

"Here, I brought you this from the restaurant." Jung Soo warily looked up, expression pulling a complete 180 upon seeing his daughter's offering. He sat up with a grin, half-hazardly adjusting his glasses as he snatched the plastic container from her hand. Upon opening it, Jung Soo gave the treat a hardy whiff, much to his daughter's chagrin. "Ah yes, the good stuff! You are forgiven!"

"Yippee," Myra replied sarcastically. Her eyes slid to the monitors, taking a moment to study the compilation of photos displayed on the screen. "Is this for the church?" she asked. "Oh, yes," replied Jung Soo through a mouthful of tiramisu. Thankfully, he swallowed before elaborating. "These are all from the mission trip to Chile they did recently. Pastor Kim asked me to put together a presentation to show in the service tomorrow."

"And…you're only just working on it now?" Myra deadpanned. "Hehe…well, you know how busy I am…" her father replied sheepishly. "C'mon, _abeoji._ Don't make me organize your files again."

Jung Soo looked at her in horror. "No, no! The last time you did that, I couldn't find anything!"

"And that is exactly the issue here," Myra teased as she exited the office, ignoring her father's calls to turn off the light.

She made her way to the staircase, intending to retreat to her room for the night, but was stopped by her mother. "Eat something before you go to sleep _Mi_ _ja,_ you have a long day tomorrow!"

Before Myra could protest, Charlie's head popped around the corner. "You should make eggplant calzones! I've been craving them for days." Estelle made a shooing gesture at her son. "Your sister has to leave early tomorrow _M_ _ijo_ , leave her be!" Charlie's face fell in soft disappointment before it set into a pout. "Fine, whatever."

Rolling her eyes at her brother's dramatics, Myra said, "I'll make them for you when I get back."

"Woo! Calzones, baby!" Charlie cheered from the other room. Estelle tutted as she dragged her eldest back to the kitchen, ignoring her pleas of "I'm not hungry."

"You're too soft on him, Myra. If you keep making whatever he asks you for at the drop of a hat, he'll never learn to cook for himself!"

"…You'd get up in the middle of the night and bake him a three-tiered cake if he asked you," countered Myra in a flat tone.

Estelle scoffed, waving at her daughter dismissively. "I'm his mama, that's my job! You're his big sister, you're supposed to bug him and get on his case about everything!"

"I can do all that, _and_ spoil him when I feel like it. I'm talented like that," Myra drawled with an exaggerated smile. "Don't let your head get too big, _Hija,_ " Estelle replied with a huff of exasperation. Before Myra could respond, one of the leftover boxes she'd brought home that night was shoved into her hands. "Take this food upstairs with you, and don't try to be sneaky and _'accidentally'_ leave it in the bathroom again! I will sit in your room and watch you eat every bite if I have to!" Estelle ordered, wagging her finger for emphasis.

Myra turned so her mother wouldn't see the irritation on her face. "If you wouldn't feed me inhuman amounts of food all the time, I wouldn't have to _'accidentally'_ leave it in the bathroom."

"You're thin as a twig! You need all the food you can get!" her mother countered. "You've been saying that since I was seven years old, Estelle!" Myra refuted as she started making her way upstairs. "So put on some damn weight already!" Estelle yelled up at her. With a hard sigh, Myra let the subject drop, lacking the energy to continue arguing.

Halfway up the stairs, her attention was caught by Estelle's display of decorative crosses hanging on the wall. Mouth pursing in mild irritation, she reached out to adjust the large wooden one, which had gone crooked for (probably) the fifty-seventh time that week. Her eyes slid over the wall to ensure none of the other crosses had gone askew, and in doing so, her gaze inevitably fell on the family portrait in the center of the display.

In the photo stood a small Hispanic woman, smiling at the camera with a stiff, but caring expression. Next to her was a Korean man, barely two inches taller than his wife, with a grin both wide and genuine. Between them stood a teenage boy, shooting the camera a slightly disgruntled expression. He was a handsome mix of both his parents, blessed with his mother's caramel skin and his father's eyes. Finally, to the left of the group, sitting down to obscure the fact that she was taller than all of them, was her.

The odd ball of the family, her lack of biological relation to the other three that occupied the portrait painfully obvious. Compared to the family of dark-haired, dark-eyed individuals, Myra was a fair-skinned barbie doll of a girl, with bright blonde hair and everything.

Charlie would probably say she had the same dead-eyed expression of one, too.

After considering the portrait a moment more, Myra passed by to climb the rest of the steps to her room.

Being adopted had never particularly bothered her; it was more of an annoyance than anything when people met them and pointed out the obvious, as if they hadn't heard the same comments time and time again.

Trudging tiredly into her room, Myra kicked off her shoes and slumped down at her desk. She set the box of food down to be ignored for the time being, instead turning her attention to her laptop. All her required tabs were still open, as they had been for the past week. She first perused through her email, stopping at a message from her university, which soon revealed itself to be an invitation to her graduation ceremony. She typed a short reply back confirming her attendance before opening the files to her entrance and scholarship applications.

Myra spent the next half hour triple-checking everything: transcripts, proof of vaccinations, and recommendation letters, all filled out, organized, and backed up to three different sources. Satisfied, Myra paused to stretch out her sore muscles before reaching for her packed bag.

Come early tomorrow morning, she would be leaving town to pay a visit to the University of North Texas in hopes of pursuing a Master's degree in business. Though Estelle had hoped she'd return to Baylor, where she'd completed her undergrad, Myra had decided she wanted to move further away from home for a while.

She couldn't rely on her parents forever, after all.

Unfortunately, her car was in the shop being worked on. Both parents were too busy to take her, and she couldn't very well deprive them of their one shared car for several days. Estelle had suggested she ask Arista, but the manager had already been kind enough to drive her home from work every night for the past week, so Myra felt bad asking the redhead to take her all the way to Denton.

So, she was resigned to the use of public transportation. With that in mind, she grabbed her phone to double-check her tickets and re-familiarize herself with the annoying mishmash of buses and trains she would be taking. It would take roughly three and a half hours to reach the university on her route, where four days of campus tours, meetings, and interviews would be waiting for her.

With that, Myra set to work to finish packing for the trip ahead of her. Her large travel bag was already filled with all the clothing, toiletries, and basic self-care products she'd need, so she focused her attention on other necessities. Aside from the long commutes to and from the university, the Wi-Fi at her cousin's apartment (where she'd be staying in between business) was nearly nonexistent, so Myra made sure she had plenty of movies and music downloaded on her phone and laptop so she wouldn't eat up a shit ton of data when trying to entertain herself. She packed several portable chargers that she'd swiped from her father's office, knowing Jung Soo likely wouldn't miss them, then stuffed her encased laptop into the bag.

"Think that's everything…" Myra mumbled thoughtfully, checking her things one last time to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything.

Without her consent, she found her gaze being drawn to her bedside drawer. Then, without really thinking about it, she approached and opened that very drawer to fish out a worn notebook.

It had been…a while since she'd written in this notebook, or even thumbed through it. Continuing her nonsensical, subconscious actions, Myra flipped the notebook to a random page.

_Dream Log 36. December 9th, 2010._

_I saw a big, bright room. I couldn't tell what it was used for, though. I remember feeling anxious. There was a group of men there, and they were talking about an attack of some kind. Maybe a war? The faces of most of the men were blurry, except for one of them. He had gray eyes and a long, brown ponytail-_

Myra closed the notebook with a sigh. Now she remembered why she hadn't picked up the notebook in a while - memories of a silly teenage girl wasting her hours away on obscure websites looking for theories and answers, believing that her strange dreams actually meant something, to the point that she wrote diligently in a "dream journal" almost every day.

Myra was past all that now. It was time to stop chasing after seemingly supernatural visions and phenomena, and start being an adult in the real world.

With that thought in mind, Myra plugged her phone into its charger, made sure her alarm was set, and rolled over to get a few hours of sleep before she had to head out.

As she lay still in the darkness of her room, Myra allowed herself to sink into the all-too-familiar numbness that always visited her before she fell asleep. It was a bizarre sensation that she'd never dared share with anyone.

Like she was a tube of toothpaste that had been squeezed to death until none of its contents remained, Myra felt void of any and all sentiments.

She hated it.

Or at least, she was pretty sure she did. Who wouldn't hate being a human equivalent to a plank of wood?

Sometimes, it made her wonder that if something terrible were to happen…if some entity were to come and swallow her up, taking her away from everything she's ever known and loved, would she even care?

Myra blinked in the darkness. Then, with a heavy sigh, she burrowed further beneath her blankets and forced herself to focus on nothing but sleep.

_"I really need to stop having these weird thoughts all the time…"_

* * *

_She was falling through what seemed to be both sky and ocean. Although she could breathe just fine, the air around her rippled as if she were underwater. When she forced her heavy eyes open, she saw the silhouette of a woman above her._

_" Into the skies…"_

_Slowly, a pair of dark wings stretched out from behind the woman. But they didn't look like angel wings. They were more like…the wings of a bird._

_"…we will rise,"_

_Her environment was changing as she fell down, down, down. A cacophony of blinding orange, gold, and red turned into dark, but beautiful, violet and navy._

_"You do not belong-"_

_Belong? Where do I not belong?_

_"Is any of this for real? Or not?"_

_Come back._

_It's time to come back._

_You do not belong there._

_Come back._

_COME BACK._

**_COmE baCK-_ **

* * *

The blaring of her alarm yanked Myra's consciousness back from oblivion. She fumbled around for her phone to silence it, then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Another bizarre dream. But that was nothing new.

Shaking it off, Myra forced herself out of bed to grab the change of clothes she'd laid out the night before. She stumbled tiredly down the hall to the bathroom, cringing when her bare feet touched the cold tile floor.

"Why is it so chilly in here?" Myra mumbled as she reached for the light switch – only for the room to remain pitch black after she'd flipped it.

"What the-"

She tried the switch again, but yielded the same results. "Oh, come on. The power's out!? You have gotta be shitting me!"

However, Myra's theory proved to be correct upon trying the hall light, which also didn't come on. "Dammit," she cursed, trudging back to her room so she could grab her phone. It was 5:34, she'd already begun wasting time she didn't have. Grumbling under her breath, Myra turned on her phone's flashlight and set it on the counter, illuminating the bathroom so that she could just barely make everything out.

After struggling through her morning routine, she turned on the shower, not bothering to wait for it to warm up before hopping in. Hissing at the freezing water as it pelted against her skin, Myra got to work scrubbing away the restaurant smell from the night before.

As she washed, something else unusual drew her attention.

The walls of the shower stuck out to her in a puzzling sense that they weren't sticking out like they should. The tile somehow appeared…flatter, with less detail than it should have. The ceiling above her had the same problem. Everything looked too clean, too basic.

Myra groaned, smacking herself on the forehead. She didn't have time to be pondering the bathroom walls like some maniac! The power was out and she was tired, whatever it was she thought she was seeing was probably just her imagination.

Finishing her shower with haste, Myra exited the bathroom in fresh clothes, yanking a brush through her hair as she rushed back to her room. Her blonde locks remained unwashed and dry, as she didn't have the time nor electricity to blow dry them.

After putting on shoes and grabbing her backpack, she started down the stairs as quickly as she could while still using her phone's flashlight to avoid tripping. Despite telling herself to ignore it, Myra couldn't help but look up at her mother's display as she passed it.

The family portrait was still there, unchanged as far as she could tell, but the crosses surrounding it were…strange. Hadn't those been more decorated before?

Making her way through the house, a faint nervousness crawled up her throat as she noticed similar problems nearly everywhere she looked.

A wall that looked too bare.

A table that looked too empty.

Furniture that should look well-worn and covered with various objects suddenly looked brand new and lifeless, as if they'd never been used before. And there was one other thing-

"Why…is it so dark in here?" Myra whispered, checking her phone. It was 6:03. Even if the power was out, she should have started seeing the beginnings of sunlight pouring through the curtains. But it was pitch black without her phone light. Not only that, but upon closer inspection, she realized that her phone itself had no service.

Shuddering from a combination of nerves and the odd chill in the air, Myra made her way to the kitchen. Despite the strange occurrences happening around her, an automatic thought that Estelle would have her hide if she left without eating anything pushed her forward.

However, that was the last instant of any normal thoughts breaking through, because the refrigerator was empty.

So was the freezer.

And the pantry.

And Myra was left standing stock-still in the middle of the kitchen because she now knew without a shadow of a doubt that something was _wrong._

With this realization, the blonde rushed to her parent's room, not caring if they got mad at her for waking them. She threw open the door, shining her flashlight inside, but-

Her parent's room was empty, their bed looking clean and untouched.

A different kind of chill raced up Myra's spine, and she booked it to her brother's room, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. With trembling hands, she threw open Charlie's bedroom door, only to be greeted with a similar sight.

"Wha…wh-" Myra stuttered. She didn't attempt to call out for them, because a part of her just somehow knew they wouldn't answer.

Her family was gone.

"What is happening…?" panted Myra as she stumbled back, bracing herself against the wall.

What, indeed.

Was she still dreaming?

As desperately as she wanted to cling to that explanation, she knew it to be false. Not only did nothing about her current state feel like a dream, but as long as she could remember, Myra had never once dreamed about anything or anyone in her own life. That was the whole reason why she once thought her dreams _meant_ something.

_"Come back. Come back."_

She recalled those words being chanted in her most recent dream. What had that meant? The voice seemed to have been speaking to her, which was another oddity, as in her usual dreams, she often saw or heard people talking to each other, but never to her.

Exactly what had happened during her dream?

Had it even _been_ a dream?

While she mused, Myra realized that her feet had subconsciously brought her to the front door, where she stood stiffly for several tense moments.

She…she had to leave. She had to go out. Myra knew this, and yet…a deep seeded sense of foreboding kept her rooted to the spot.

Once she opened this door, everything would change…somehow.

She had never been great with change, but…what else could she do?

Slowly, cautiously, Myra reached up to touch the door knob, and she flinched. It was cold as ice. Nevertheless, she forced her fingers to wrap around the knob and swallowed a mouthful of cotton as she turned it. The fact that it was not locked, and the absence of the security system's usual beeping whenever the front door opened was not lost on her. Myra pushed it open, and-

Numbing shock _slammed_ into her such that her legs gave out and she couldn't even muster up a scream.

It was not her neighborhood that she saw outside her door.

Rather, it seemed as though oblivion itself had come to greet her.

The sky above was purple with black clouds that formed twisting vine and finger-like patterns that loomed over the land. The dark, barren ground was covered in cracks that seemed to glow with an eerie blue light. There were no buildings in sight, nor any kind of living being that she could see. It was like she'd been dropped into a pre-creation era world, where there was nothing but darkness and a thin layer of earth.

…And her house, apparently.

Myra sat catatonically on her front porch, jaw unhinged and eyes set in unblinking horror. Her bag slipped from her shoulders, and the sound of it hitting the ground was so startling to her frayed nerves, that she bolted away from the porch on pure reflex.

Myra clutched at her chest, heart pounding frantically as she scrambled for breath. Her head was blank, her limbs were numb, and all she could do was stand there on shaky legs and fight the tempting option to faint, because only god knew what may happen to her if she lost consciousness in a place like this.

A strange _whoosh_ made Myra snap her head up, and she released a strangled cry at what she saw there.

A small, black thing had appeared in front of her.

She hadn't the slightest clue how to accurately label it; the thing was hunched over in a gorilla-like pose, its hands almost touching the ground. Its shape was vaguely human-like, but it had two bug-like antennas on its round head. Most disturbing of all, the thing had no face, just two beady yellow eyes that were staring at her.

Myra soon recognized it as the same thing she'd seen in the broom closet at her mother's restaurant.

The thing wandered closer, making her jump back with her arms up in some poor attempt to defend herself. The little thing tilted its head a full ninety degrees, and though it didn't have the necessary features to truly emote, it seemed to be eyeing her curiously.

In any other situation, Myra might have found it cute.

But here, in this strange, unfamiliar place that she'd been tossed into without so much as a decent warning, it only terrified her.

The little creature attempted to approach her again, but Myra continued to back up. They repeated this dance several times, the thing sometimes almost reaching her, and she somehow managing to step out of its range last minute. The creature's movements were jerky and erratic, its head in particular never seeming to stay still.

Just as Myra was thinking about turning around and running as fast as she could, the thing suddenly stopped in its tracks.

Its entire body quivered excitedly. Then, Myra heard a soft, willowy voice whisper one word that would haunt her for the rest of her days:

_"Heart..."_

Though it had no mouth, she knew that voice had come from the little creature.

_"Heart… Heart…"_

Myra didn't pause to wonder what it meant, because then the voice _multiplied._

_"H_ _eart... **Hearts... Hearts..."**_

With cold blood and pale features, Myra turned to find a whole swarm of the creatures slowly closing in on her. "No…!" she wheezed, stumbling back. Her hands flew to her ears, but the chanting of the creatures had already worked its way into her mind.

Was this it? _This_ was how she would die? In a strange world, by strange creatures, under strange circumstances? Was she dumped here just to be killed? Was she to meet her end without ever knowing what had happened to both herself and her family?

That sudden thought made Myra's blood freeze in her veins.

Her family…good god, what _had_ happened to them!? Were they somewhere in this place too? Were they back on earth, still sleeping peacefully, none the wiser as to what was going on? Or had something even worse come to befall them?

A violent burst of energy exploded in her veins, spurred on by the unadulterated need to find them.

She would not, she _could not_ die until she knew they were alright.

Before her mind could even catch up, Myra found herself dashing forward with a shrill cry, and she _leapt_ over the swarm. Her landing was painful, but she paid the injury no mind, continuing to charge forward with no destination in mind.

Unfortunately, she didn't make it very far.

The creatures, for as small and frail as they looked, were unnaturally quick. To top it off, some of them _melted_ into the ground and slithered across on their bellies, like a deformed shadow. One of them surged forward, and without anything else to possibly defend herself with, Myra threw out her hand, and-

Then she was falling.

Faster than the eye could blink, the world around her had disappeared, replaced by an endless black void.

Although she should have been terrified, every ounce of panic and fear that had ruled her only moments ago had suddenly vanished. The only thing she could feel was the wind rushing past her as she fell. As if some entity had snatched all her emotions from her at once, not even allowing her to scream as she plummeted to her death.

However, death never came. An unseen force slowed her body down before gently lowering her onto her feet. Looking down, Myra squinted as she took in what seemed to be a brilliant stained-glass window that she was standing on. The window featured a woman standing regally in its center, a woman with long brown hair…

But before she could study it any further, a different voice called out to her.

_"Do you wish to protect yourself?"_

The voice was soft and feminine.

Myra blinked at the words. What kind of a question was that? Of course she wanted to protect herself!

 _"You cannot do it alone. You will need help,"_ called the voice.

If she could, Myra would have openly scoffed then. _"No shit, sherlock,"_ she mentally deadpanned.

The air around her vibrated strangely, as if it were amused. It tickled her face and neck, but she didn't laugh. It seemed as though she was incapable of speech in this place.

 _"Why do you say that? Are you offering?"_ Myra thought, assuming the voice could hear her.

The feeling in the air shifted again, this time going still. _"…I am unable to help you directly as of this time,"_ the voice murmured apologetically. Myra's shoulders fell in disappointment.

 _"However,"_ the voice echoed again, _"there is something I can offer you that can."_

Myra arched a brow, as if asking the voice to elaborate.

_"Though I must warn you…should you choose to accept my help, the days ahead will be most difficult for you. Likely more difficult than you have ever known."_

A deformed smile stretched its way across Myra's lips. _"Yeah, I kind of figured that out already! In case you haven't noticed, my entire family has gone missing and my house has been dumped into some Star Trek-esque planet overnight! Seriously, am I on an episode of the goddamn Twilight Zone!?"_

Myra felt her body shaking, though her heart beat at a normal pace. _"Look, just - I'll take whatever help I can get, okay? I need to find my family, and I can't do that if I'm dead."_

A pregnant pause engulfed the area, the air flirting with the hairs on the back of her neck.

 _"…Very well,"_ the voice uttered, breaking the silence. Its tone was somewhat resigned, but edged with a touch of…pride?

_"Hold out your dominant hand."_

Robotically, Myra obeyed the voice's command.

Then, a blinding light erupted in front of her, making her squeeze her eyes shut. She felt something hard and rectangular pressing against her open palm, and she automatically wrapped her hand around it. However, the light behind her eyelids continued to grow, so she couldn't see what it was.

_"This is…my…power…"_

Myra heard the voice say, now sounding faint and disjointed.

_"I will…lend it…to…you…"_

She felt the environment melting away around her, and still, she mysteriously felt no fear.

_"Be…strong…my-"_

Whatever the voice had tried to say was lost to her, because suddenly, Myra was back in the strange realm, the swarm of shadowy creatures still surrounding her.

There was a strange hiss, then a tearing sound, forcing Myra to refocus her attention in front of her. She reeled back in astonishment, because the creature that had jumped at her was now impaled on the thing that had appeared in her hand. The horrendous sight was gone as quickly as it came, because the creature soon evaporated into nothing, and an _actual_ bright red heart shot up into the sky.

The shadows were trembling around her, a very different chant now resounding in her head,

_"Keyblade… Keyblade…"_

Myra did not get a moment to ponder what in the hell a _'keyblade'_ was, nor what she had seen happen to the creature she'd just killed, because the swarm attacked her with a new sense of vigor-

And Myra could only marvel internally as her body _moved._

The next thing she knew, she was stabbing, lunging, slashing at the creatures with movements she didn't know she was physically capable of, finesse she'd never acquired, and skill she'd never learned.

Myra almost felt as though she was having a bizarre out-of-body experience, because logically, there was no way she, who had never fought, never held a real weapon, and never trained in any kind of combat was capable of the feats she found herself pulling off.

Every time one of the creatures popped up in front of her, she would effortlessly leap out of the way. Whenever they ganged up on her and she thought for sure they'd land a hit, her body would twist into some elaborate dodge before the arm wielding her new weapon would swing around and end them. Sometimes her body would simply react out of nowhere, spinning around suddenly to kill one attempting a sneak attack, even though Myra had absolutely not seen it coming.

As if something had possessed her body-

As if she were a puppet on invisible strings-

As if she were a character in a video game being controlled by an unknown player-

Myra knew that none of these movements were entirely her own.

With a grunt, she swung her weapon down onto the last creature, watching it disintegrate into nothing. For several long moments, she stood where she was, panting excessively as she tried to gather her bearings. Experimentally, she tried flexing her fingers, sighing in relief when they responded accordingly.

Then, with a trembling arm, Myra slowly raised her gift from the mysterious voice.

In her hand was the most bizarre weapon she'd ever seen. It had the general shape of a sword, but only from the hilt and partly upwards. Instead of a pointed tip, the top of the blade was curved into the form of a bird's head, its beak jutting out in the shape of a sickle. The entire weapon was black, aside from the jewel eye of the bird, which was a deep crimson. It was too dark for Myra to make out the details of the blade, but aside from a sword, its overall shape also kind of reminded her of a-

Myra's body leapt back on reflex at the sudden whooshing sound, and she watched in horror as a mass of black, shadowy tendrils began to take shape in front of her.

She expected, perhaps, a giant version of the creatures from earlier, but to her surprise, what formed before her was something else entirely.

This shadow was indeed larger than the others, but only the size of an average human. It had a feminine figure, long limbs, and equally as long fingers that ended in wispy particles. Flowy white tendrils that resembled hair grew from its head, and instead of the yellow eyes the bug-like creatures had, this one's were a glowing amethyst.

Myra held her weapon at the ready, trying to cease her infernal shaking. However, rather than amble awkwardly about like the little creatures had, or lunge out suddenly for an attack, this shadow _glided_ towards her, its feet not even touching the ground. It paused a few feet away from her, likely noticing her blade, and simply floated there curiously. It cocked its head as it studied her, taking in her tense, shivering form.

Then, much to Myra's chagrin, it started circling her slowly, scrutinizing her from all angles. She followed it, turning so that her weapon was always between her and it. When it stopped in front of her, the thing's body shivered and a peculiar sound arose from its throat. Myra blinked in rapid confusion when she realized it was _purring._

The creature raised its spindly hand towards her chest, cautiously, almost as if it were trying not to frighten her. Myra's shoulder blades touched as she shrank away from it, her feet tensed and ready to fight or flee on the spot. The shadow made a bizarre cooing sound, as if it were soothing her, and as it reached for her-

It stopped.

Its limbs twitched erratically, and without any further warning, the thing _screeched._

The piercing sound rattled inside Myra's head, and she reflexively slapped her hands over her ears. The shadow reeled backwards, raising its hand in preparation to attack, but the thing possessing her was quicker. Before Myra knew it, her arm swung out at the same time the creature brought its hand down on her.

Another wail tore through the air as her blade sliced through the shadow's arm, severing it in one fell swoop. The limb disintegrated by her feet, making Myra's stomach turn.

But illness would have to wait, because the creature soared towards her, remaining hand poised to strike. Myra leapt out of the way, landing into a somersault before unsteadily shooting to her feet. She was given no time to gather her bearings, because suddenly her body was flinging itself to the side, just barely avoiding being hit by the shadow creature.

Even with no experience in combat, Myra could tell that this creature was in a different league from the other ones; it was faster, more agile, and far smarter. Within minutes, she was bombarded with one close call after the other.

The shadow feinted left, nearly knocking the weapon from her hand when she raised it in the nick of time to block.

It dissolved into the ground and hid its presence, and just when Myra thought it would come at her from below, a shadow on the ground betrayed its rapid approach from above, leaving her to duck at the last second to save her neck.

When the shadow grew tired of their game of hit-and-dodge, it growled in outrage before barraging her with a vicious flurry of attacks that made sparks fly off her blade. Whenever she blocked, Myra's arms screamed in protest and she could feel blisters forming on her fingers, but she desperately kept an iron grip on her weapon.

As the fight went on, the shadow seemed to grow more and more irritated. Finally, it retreated about twenty feet away and started circling the area's perimeter. Myra refused to take her eyes off it as she stood on trembling legs, panting heavily. She lacked both the energy and courage to attack the creature herself, leaving her to watch as it folded over before suddenly leaping gracefully into the air.

Like a ballerina dancing up a spiral staircase, the shadow twirled and pranced in an upwards corkscrew pattern until stopping roughly twenty feet directly above her.

Myra tentatively backed up as it lifted a bent leg behind itself, raised its arm over its head and, like an ice skater, started spinning elegantly on one foot. Faster and faster the shadow spun, and from its foot grew a glowing silver orb of energy.

It didn't take a genius to tell that the attack was dangerous, whatever it was.

Myra turned around to run a moment too late, for the second she stepped forward, a muted _BOOM_ shook the air as the orb exploded, breaking into hundreds of pieces that rained down upon the area.

Myra ran like she'd never run before, her body occasionally jerking to the side to avoid being hit by a burning orb. She knew getting hit by one directly would mean a certain, painful end, as the orbs were reducing the ground into small, black craters wherever they landed. Myra didn't pause for a second as the orbs fell around her, ignoring the burn of her lungs and the ache of her muscles. She ducked, twisted, and jumped away from the orbs barreling toward her–

But for all her body's tireless efforts to protect itself, it simply wasn't immune to fatigue.

And when she slowed for the briefest of moments to draw in a desperate breath, one of the orbs saw its chance.

Though her body moved to dodge, it wasn't fast enough, and Myra let out a broken cry as the orb grazed her left arm.

She stumbled, but whatever had possessed her didn't allow her to stop. With a burst of renewed vigor, Myra charged forward until she was finally outside the range of the deadly storm, where her body gave into the pain.

She fell roughly on her side, wheezing and groaning as she clutched her injured arm. The orb had burned a hole in the sleeve of her top, and with one glance she could tell there was a bad burn there.

Myra sucked air in through her teeth, muttering profanity under her breath as she pushed herself up. She blinked several times, trying to reorient herself as she recalled that the fight was not yet over.

The ground had been scorched within an inch of its life, though the house appeared miraculously unscathed.

Craning her neck, Myra spotted the shadow still in the air. Its body was trembling as it descended steadily, head lolled to the side and remaining arm hanging limp. That attack seemed to have taken a toll on the creature too.

Knowing this might be her only chance, Myra struggled to her feet, hissing at the pain that raced through her arm when she pushed herself up with it. The shadow was too high to attack head on, which left her with only one option.

With a harsh cry, Myra threw her weapon at the shadow.

The blade spiraled through the air before meeting its mark, lodging itself directly in the shadow's chest. The creature let out an earth shattering scream, and Myra screamed with it, the sound of its cries piercing her very soul as her body folded to the ground, hands clapped over her ears. Its body shuddered in the air for a few agonizing moments before going slack.

Then, with a dry pop, the shadow evaporated into nothing. Like with the smaller creatures, a large heart escaped its remains, hovering strangely in the air before floating up into the sky.

Myra watched the heart, physically unable to tear her gaze from it, until it was out of sight.

Relief slammed into her, causing her knees to buckle underneath her as the adrenaline wore off and her body finally succumbed to its fatigue. There wasn't a solitary muscle in Myra's body that didn't ache, not an inch of skin spared from sweat, and not a single limb that didn't tremble.

However, her relief from surviving was short-lived.

For when the silence descended heavily upon her, Myra realized that, while she may have fought off her attackers, nothing about her situation had changed.

She was alone and injured in a strange, unfamiliar place, and she still had no idea what was going on.

Placing a hand on her belly, Myra doubled over and dry heaved toward the ground. There was nothing in her stomach to throw up, so all that came up was bile and wet coughs.

Once the sickness had passed, Myra sat listlessly on the ground, mind blank with grief and shock.

The only coherent thought playing on repeat through her head was, _"Why? Why? Why?"_

So deep in her distress was she, that she didn't hear the footsteps slowly approaching her.

"…Marya?"

* * *

_?'s Journal, Entry 76._

_Something is coming. I cannot say what it is, or why I feel this way. This place hardly ever changes after all, so why would it now? But in my heart, I know it to be true._

_Something is here. Something has changed. Something…significant._

_I shall depart to investigate this matter at once._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, it's here. I'm finally writing it. Must be the end of times, indeed.
> 
> For those of you who don't know, (which is all of you) this is a story that I have been wanting to write for years. I've lost count of the amount of times I've re-planned, revised, and re-plotted this story, (no thanks to Nomura) but I think that finally, I have something of substance worth sharing with the outside world.
> 
> To clarify on some of the tags, this story will technically be an AU, but I personally label it as more of a "UA" which stands for "Universe Alterations." I do this because the majority of the story, events, and characters from the games will remain completely unchanged. However, there will be certain aspects of certain characters and worlds that will undergo some changes for the sake of this particular story line, namely their backgrounds and motivations. But fear not my friends, for their personalities will remain intact! I love so many of these characters so, so, so much, and I wouldn't drastically change them for any story.
> 
> As another disclaimer, this story is currently being written after the release of ReMind, so if you're reading this fifty years into the future where KH 4 has come out, I apologize, but this story will not have anything to do with that game. I will not be making any assumptions regarding the future of the canon KH plot, this story will have its own version of the series' end and beginning. You just won't know how until later.
> 
> Furthermore, for those of you that care very deeply for the intricate plot and lore of this franchise, I give you my word that I will do MY ABSOLUTE BEST to be as accurate as possible within the realm of this story line. That said, if I ever screw up my details somewhere, feel free to correct me, you won't hurt my feelings. For as messy and headache-inducing the universe of KH is, I still want to pay it the time and respect it deserves.
> 
> That said, I offer you all my most sincere gratitude for clicking on this story, you will never know how much your interest means to me. I'm one of those people that it takes a lot to put myself out there, but this story is a passion project of mine, and I would be doing both it and myself a disservice if I didn't share it with anyone. I hope you stick around and enjoy, because there's a lot I want to share with you.
> 
> Reviews & constructive criticism are always welcome. :)
> 
> Cover Image was made on Picrew.


	2. The Wandering Scientist

_Dream Log 25. November 28_ _th_ _, 2010._

_I was standing in a giant garden. It was beautiful, full of all kinds of flowers that I'd never seen before. I tried looking up the flowers online, but I couldn't find the exact ones that I saw. There was someone else in the garden, but I couldn't see who it was. I remember his voice, though. It was strong and deep, and it sounded familiar. I remember feeling content._

* * *

"…Marya?"

At the sound of her full name, Myra's heart leapt into her throat. She jerked around, mouth forming an 'o' shape at what she saw.

Standing before her was not a shadow creature, but a human man, one who was looking at her with equal parts astonishment and incredulity. The words _"who are you,"_ and _"how the hell do you know my name,"_ formed feebly in her wearied mind, but her tongue remained frozen. Myra could only blink owlishly, incapable of formulating any decent response. She didn't know if she should feel relieved, wary, or afraid of this man – but in the end, it didn't matter.

The stranger, still eyeing her as if she had three heads, began to move. His forehead crumpled as if trying to hold back tears and his hands shook as he slowly raised them towards her. His footsteps were wide in berth, and yet hesitant, displaying both eagerness and uncertainty in his approach.

Myra only watched, mystified by the man's uncanny behavior, until he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Tell me you are not an illusion created by this accursed place…" he whispered, hand reaching out for her. Myra tensed, knees drawing up to meet her side as she subtly scooted back. Noticing her unease, the man pursed his lips, hand retreating as he leaned backward to sit cross-legged.

A beat of tense silence passed between them as they watched one another, she with caution, he with careful examination.

Myra felt as though he was trying to see into the depths of her very soul with his piercing gaze.

However, her attention was soon snatched away when she realized the man's eyes were not light brown like she initially thought, but a startling orange.

"Young lady," he said, forcing Myra to re-focus on the situation at hand, "can you understand me?"

The man's words were cautious and deliberate, and she noticed he had a faint English accent.

Tentatively, she nodded. His shoulders sagged in relief. "I mean you no harm-" he began, raising his empty palms for emphasis. "-but please, allow me to ask you your name."

Myra couldn't stop the puzzled arch of her brow.

But…he already knew her name. He'd said it.

Misunderstanding her confused expression, the man continued. "Please. You have my word that I bear no ill will towards you. There is just…something I must confirm."

Though the expression he wore was calm, his trembling fists betrayed his desperation.

Eventually, Myra managed to convince her mouth to move. "You…already said my name," her voice was hoarse as she spoke, "Marya. Though…most just call me Myra."

The man released a deep, shuddering breath. "Myra…"

The way he spoke her name, soft and disbelieving, ignited a spark of familiarity in the back of her mind. But it was gone faster than she could catch it.

"If I may ask something else of you," spoke the man, a faint gleam in his tired eyes, "tell me…do you know who I am?" Myra shifted uncomfortably, both from her injuries, and the bizarre guilt that welled up in her chest. "No, I…I don't think so."

The gleam in his eyes faded, but he cast them down so she couldn't see. "…I see."

A stretch of silence ensued as Myra studied the man's slumped form.

"…Should I know you?" she whispered.

His brows drew together, as if she'd just asked the most difficult question one could imagine.

Frustration arose within her at his silence. It was then that Myra finally decided that she'd had enough, and threw caution to the wind as she spoke.

"Look, I don't want to be rude to the only other human I've seen in this place, but I don't think I can handle anymore bullshit right now. I have no idea where I am or what's happening to me, I've had countless little shadow things try to kill me, and I don't know what's happened to my family, who, the last that I saw, were in that house right there-" Myra gestured widely to her home, "-along with me, and yet somehow, they're not anymore! So please, whoever you are, if you know anything about what's going on, please tell me! I need answers!"

The man blinked comically at her outburst. Then, his eyes softened as understanding dawned. "Peace, Marya," he soothed, holding his hands up placatingly, "I assure you, I will answer all of your questions. However, in order for me to do so, I will first need to ask you some as well. Is that acceptable?" Breathing slightly labored, Myra gave a shaky nod. The man gave one in return and said, "We should take refuge within the house. We are vulnerable to attacks out here." Shuddering at the thought, Myra quickly went to stand at the same time he did, though with far more initial success.

The man, though not elderly, was clearly far older than she, perhaps late fifties or early sixties. He grunted as he struggled to get his legs to obey him, even as she was already on her feet.

The sight struck something within her, and without thinking, Myra had suddenly taken him by the arm. She blinked, both at her impulsive action, and at the returning hint of familiarity that she felt upon touching him.

As she pulled the man to his feet, Myra couldn't suppress a wince at the sharp pain in her arm. In the rush of the stranger's arrival, she'd forgotten about her burn.

The man's eyes flitted down to said wound, expression hardening. "You are injured."

She had no time to think of a reply, for he had already taken her arm in his careful grasp for inspection. "This is a serious burn. It needs immediate medical attention," he murmured, glancing down at her, "are you wounded anywhere else?"

Myra was taken aback by the hard, yet genuine, concern in the man's tone. "No, not seriously," she replied. He hummed in response, releasing her arm. "Would you happen to have any medical supplies in that house of yours?"

Myra paused. The answer should have been an automatic _"of course,"_ but then she remembered the strange state her home was in.

"…There might be," she finally replied. "Very well, let us go in," the man sighed.

As they entered the house, Myra picked up her bag that had fallen on the doorstep, then brushed past the man to retrieve her phone from the hallway. Its flashlight was still on, now the only source of light left in her home.

The man stood in the living room, studying the framed photos sitting on the mantle. Myra didn't know how he could see them, considering how dark it was in the house.

"Um…you can sit down. I'll go look for the first-aid kit," she suggested awkwardly. The man turned smoothly, offering her a glance before speaking. "No. You are injured. Take a seat, I shall find it myself."

Myra opened her mouth to protest, but he was already walking off. "Um-! Do you need a light?" she managed to call out, waving her phone in offering.

"That's alright," he replied without turning around, "when you've been in darkness for some time, your eyes tend to adjust." With that, the man disappeared around the corner.

Myra hovered in her spot uncertainly before tentatively lowering herself into her mother's favorite chair. She tried to ignore how it didn't feel right beneath her.

As she listened to the man hunt around the kitchen, she silently mulled over his puzzling words.

_"When you've been in darkness for some time, your eyes tend to adjust."_

Just how long had he been in this place to be able to see in near complete darkness without issue?

The man returned then, carrying an ice pack. Myra blinked. "Where'd you get that?" Arching a brow, he replied, "The freezer, of course."

"That's weird…the refrigerator was empty when I checked it earlier," she muttered as he handed her the ice pack. "It was in the door of the freezer. The rest was indeed empty," the man agreed with a nod.

Myra didn't understand the state of her home at all. Why is it that everything in their pantry and refrigerator had vanished except for an ice pack? Was it because it was the only non-edible item?

"You should place that on your injury. I'll go search for anything else that could be of use," the man informed before going off again.

Myra absently thought she should be concerned that a strange man was rummaging through her home unattended, but oddly, she found that she wasn't the slightest bit worried. As she pressed the ice pack to her burn, cringing as she did so, Myra puzzled out the bizarre sense of ease that had settled in her chest at the man's arrival.

People in general tended to send all her mental guards up, and if past experience had taught her anything, it's that trust rarely came to her unaccompanied.

Releasing a long sigh, Myra studied her bruised, blistered hands, weary from the whirlwind of confusion within her that just continued to grow.

The man returned, first aid kit in hand. He sat beside her as she rolled up her sleeve, then silently began tending to her injury. The room's atmosphere was tense, millions of unanswered questions hanging between them; but despite their situation, both remained strangely quiet, seemingly afraid to broach the topic. Or perhaps, simply neither knew where to begin.

Myra didn't miss the way the man's eyes would occasionally flit up to her, his expression completely unreadable. She almost felt a little foolish; she was the one who'd demanded answers, but now that she had a chance to get them, something in her hesitated.

Old habits died hard, she supposed.

Thankfully, the man finally spoke up, slicing through the tension in the air. "The shadow creatures that attacked you are called the Heartless," he began, applying gauze to her burn, "they are beings that are created from the darkness in a person's heart. When an individual loses their heart to that darkness, that heart goes on to form a Heartless. Most Heartless are mindless creatures, drawn only towards the hearts of living beings, so that they may corrupt those hearts and add to their numbers."

The man wrapped a bandage around her arm, ignoring her look of growing bewilderment.

"You and I are currently in the home of those dark beings, known as the Realm of Darkness." As he finished bandaging her wound, Myra's lost expression made him pause. "However," he sighed, "I am assuming that all of that makes little sense to you."

"That…makes _no_ sense to me!" Myra exclaimed. "I mean-" she gestured vaguely, "-losing your heart? Do you mean _dying?_ Because where I come from, losing your heart means _death._ I don't know what you mean by…by _darkness_ in the heart, or whatever. To _me_ , that sounds like some emo poem a middle-schooler would write!"

Myra ran a hand through her hair. "Look, after everything that's happened to me today, I'm not… _doubting_ that what you're saying is true, but it is a _lot_ to swallow. To me, _darkness_ is-" she gestured widely around the room, "- _this_ , what we're currently sitting in. Dark is just what you call a place with little to no light. And a _heart_ is a vital organ that pumps blood through the body, not…not some supernatural power that you can lose to something like darkness. So, I'm sorry, but absolutely nothing you just told me makes a bit of sense."

When Myra finished her explanation, the man's eyes softened. As she rested her weary head against her fist, he raised a tentative hand as if to comfort her…but he twitched and retreated at the last second.

Instead, he folded his hands awkwardly and said, "You have no need to apologize. It is not common knowledge in most worlds, especially not amongst regular people."

Myra started. _"Worlds?" s_ he repeated incredulously. "Are you-" she swallowed, "-are you saying that I'm not…even on earth anymore!?"

Well, that would explain the purple sky.

The man's head jerked towards her. "Earth? Did you say earth!?" he gasped.

"I…yes?" Myra replied, taken aback by the man's shift in mood.

A small, pitiful sound escaped his throat as he placed a hand against his forehead. "Oh, my dear girl…" his tone made Myra's blood go cold, "…forgive me." The man's form trembled and he whispered something under his breath.

"I-I didn't catch that," Myra uttered quietly.

He dragged a hand down his face, suddenly looking ten years older. "I'm afraid," he mumbled gravely, "you are very far from your home. Very far, indeed."

He looked up at her, the raw emotion reflected in his eyes making something clench in her chest. "I am so very sorry, Marya."

' _Very far indeed'_ may have been putting it lightly.

Couldn't get much further away than _another fucking planet_.

Myra slumped in her seat, cold, numbing shock washing over her. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish. "How did…why did…" she stammered.

Though she couldn't complete the thought, he seemed to understand.

How did she get here?

Why her?

Why now?

"I'm afraid I do not have those answers," the man whispered apologetically. He placed a hand on the arm of her chair, just inches away from her fingers as he mumbled, "…Forgive me."

Myra blinked. "…I don't know why you're apologizing."

He flinched subtly, withdrawing his hand to his lap. It was silent for a while, she reeling from the revelation that home was nowhere near, and he giving her time to process that.

After several minutes had passed, the man cleared his throat. "You mentioned you were concerned for the other residents of this house?" Myra slowly lifted her head, a hint of light returning to her eyes at the mention of her family. "Yes. I haven't seen any trace of them since waking up here."

He folded his hands and reclined in his seat, the very picture of calm. She wondered if he was doing it for her sake.

"I do not believe you have reason to worry about their well-being," the man stated, "they are most likely still back on earth, just as they were when you left it."

Myra sat up at the news. "You think so!?" She paused, pursing her lips. "But, how can you be so sure?"

He glanced around the living room as he said, "Have you not noticed anything unusual about this house?"

Her mouth formed an 'o' shape, surprised that the man seemed to have seen the same peculiarities of the house that she had.

"…Actually, I have," Myra began slowly, "almost everything in here is more…lifeless than it should be. Everywhere I look, something is missing. It's like-" she made an odd gesture with her hands as she tried to explain, "-this _is_ my house, but it _isn't_ at the same time. I know it doesn't make sense, but…" she trailed off, looking up at the man with a lost expression.

"I understand," he said with a thoughtful nod, "then, allow me to ask you a strange question, Marya." The man looked her dead in the eye and, with a completely even tone, said, "While on earth, did you ever hear tale of one of the libraries from Oxford University disappearing into thin air?"

Myra gave a slow, solitary blink.

"It would have happened a few years before your birth," he continued, as if he'd just asked something completely normal, "but if it did indeed happen, I imagine such an event would not go unspoken of for quite a long time. So tell me, to your knowledge, is the entirety of Oxford University still intact?"

Myra found herself looking around the room, as if she were a character from _'The Office'_ trying to give the camera an incredulous glance.

"Um…as far as I know, nothing like that ever happened," she finally replied.

The man sighed with relief, nodding to himself. "Then my theory is indeed correct."

Myra couldn't help but give the man a _look._ "I'm…sorry, but I don't understand. _How_ exactly does that prove your theory?"

He gave her a humorless smile. "Because, my dear girl, this same scenario happened to me when I first came to this universe."

Her eyes widened. "You mean…"

He nodded to her unspoken question. "I too, am from earth," the man began, launching into his story.

"I was a student at Oxford University studying astrodynamics, trans-dimensional relativity, black hole theory, and a bit of rocket science on the side. The first astronauts had successfully landed on the moon that year you see, so I was quite interested in the outer space-" he took no notice of Myra openly gaping at him, "-and I had already developed several shaky theories. However, my ultimate goal at the time was to discover and prove the existence of alternate universes."

He paused, brow scrunching in distaste. "You could say I was…an _ambitious_ young man. I suppose being offered a scholarship at the most esteemed university in the country, followed by achieving the highest marks of your class for five years in a row, breaking several school records in the process, tends to make one feel as though they can do anything."

Myra continued to _stare._

Who exactly _was_ this man? Some kind of super genius?

"I remember the night that it happened quite clearly," he continued, "I was working on a device of my invention that was inspired Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine. I believed it would allow me to digitally analyze the existing space surrounding it, to determine if there was more that made up our world's environment that were beyond the human senses." The man lapsed into brief silence, his eyes glazed as if remembering that time, leaving Myra to ponder what kind of science fiction nonsense she had been swept up in.

"But then," he uttered, "something happened that I never could have predicted. A shadow, unlike any that I had ever known, began to leak from my machine. It grew and grew, and I was inevitably swept up in it. I tried to call out to my peers for help, but they were all utterly unresponsive where they stood, as if frozen in time."

The man lowered his head, staring down at his folded hands. "I must have collapsed at some point, because I woke up an undetermined amount of time later lying on the floor. Everyone that had been in the room with me had vanished, and the world I saw outside was not my own."

He shook his head. "I know not how nor why, but I had been spirited away to an entirely different dimension. And I brought half of the Bodleian Library along with me."

He turned to face her, eyeing her owlish expression. "But it was not quite the same library, you see. What was once an architectural marvel filled with gorgeous murals, carvings, and furniture was now a shell of its former self. The spine of every book was the same, and their pages were blank."

Myra gasped, hand flying to her mouth. The man leaned closer, his eyes severe. "If this situation and that one are one in the same, then most likely, this house is not the same one from which you came, but rather, an elaborate copy. If I had to make an educated guess as to how it was made, I would venture that it was created from your subconscious memory. If that is indeed the case, it would explain why certain items in your home are more detailed than others. Memories are quite a powerful thing you know, particularly in this universe-"

"Wait, wait, back up a second," Myra interrupted, holding her hands up in a _'slow down'_ motion, "there are too many parts of this whole explanation that don't line up. First of all, there was no leaking shadow or mysterious time freezes for me. I went to sleep and woke up here, just like this. I didn't even know anything had happened at first!" she protested.

The man hummed thoughtfully. "Nothing unusual happened whatsoever? You're certain?"

_Come back. Come back._

Myra's gaze shifted. "Well…I did see…one of those shadow creatures, err, Heartless, last night," his eyes widened, "it was only for a split second, though. I'm still not even sure if I really saw it or not."

The man's brow creased. "Regardless, the appearance of a Heartless on earth is most troubling news indeed. I did not believe their influence stretched that far." His orange eyes, seeming more illuminated in the flashlight's glow, slid over to her. "Do you not think it is possible that a similar phenomenon occurred while you were asleep?"

Myra tugged at her hair nervously. "Well, I can't say there's no way it happened…"

Though she tried to convince herself otherwise, she simply couldn't find the courage to mention her dream. There were still so many other unanswered questions that demanded attention, and she dreaded to bring up more.

"But why did only _I_ get sent here? I wasn't trying to defy the laws of science or invent some digital thingamajig! I was ju-just a normal person!"

_Ha._

"I wasn't doing anything spectacular or different last night, I was just living my life like any other day!" Myra wilted in her seat. "I just…I don't understand…"

The man sent her a pained look. "Do you-" he cleared his throat, "-am I incorrect in assuming that you have _always_ lived on earth?"

His tone was odd.

Had she been asked such a question twenty-four hours ago, Myra would have replied with a confused and slightly concerned tilt of the head.

But now…

"Actually, I…don't know for certain."

The man arched a brow, waiting patiently for her to clarify. There was something strange in the way his eyes begged an answer, but once again, Myra could not place what it was.

"I, uh," she stared down at her shoes, "don't have any memories from before I was six years old. See, I was adopted into the family I have now, and the people at the home I was staying at couldn't find a single trace of me in any system. I couldn't help them out, because my first memory was of waking up in a hospital there. Apparently, I was just kind of found unconscious somewhere nearby, but there was no evidence of what had happened to me. So, as far as anyone was concerned, I didn't…really exist up until that point."

She paused to draw in breath and let out a dry laugh. "Now that I say it all out loud, I guess it _does_ sound pretty damn suspicious. I guess I never really put much thought into it. I mean, how was I supposed to know that I could have _literally_ come from a whole other dimension, and…are, uh…are you alright?" Myra trailed off upon noticing the man's changed countenance;

His whole body trembled subtly, forehead resting on his linked fingers as he took shuddery, erratic breaths.

"Have you any other questions?" the man croaked, sidestepping her inquiry of his well-being.

Put off by his sudden shift in emotion, Myra hesitated before answering. "You said that…the first astronauts had just been sent to the moon when you were on earth." The man drew in a long breath, as if to steady himself. "Yes, that's correct," he sighed without looking up. "But," Myra furrowed a brow, "if you were in college during the moon landing, then you should at least be in your seventies."

 _That_ got the man's attention.

He jerked upright, staring at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. "I am most certainly not-!"

He froze, features twisting into a tense, thoughtful expression.

"What…what year is it on earth right now, Marya?"

She gave him a quizzical glance, but replied, "It's 2020." The man blinked, a peculiar gleam entering his eyes. "Intriguing…so the flow of time is different between this dimension and that one." The gleam was gone in the next moment, replaced by vacant woe. "Either that, or I have been trapped in this infernal place for so long that I no longer look my age." he muttered partially to himself.

Once again, Myra was left puzzled by the man's monologue. "Um…I'm twenty-four, if that helps," she shrugged, not knowing what else to say. A glazed look crossed his features at her words, as if he were riddling something out in his head. "…My first assumption was correct, then. Time flows differently from earth's universe and this one."

Myra cocked her head in surprise.

She hadn't expected that information to _actually_ help him.

She certainly didn't know how her age was the deciding factor in his theory, but she didn't get the chance to question him.

"Only thirty years have passed since I arrived here," the man stated, eyes darkening, "at least, the last that I knew for certain."

A cold sense of dread fell over Myra at his hushed words. Forcing her mouth open, she prepared to ask the question she'd been the most afraid of: "Have you…been stuck in this place ever since you were first brought here?"

Blinking questionably, he attempted a slight, reassuring smile and replied, "No, my dear. I was not brought to the Realm of Darkness upon my arrival. The world I was sent to was bright and…beautiful…" Trailing off, his eyes were overcome with a faraway sadness, and for the first time, Myra found herself _really_ wondering what had happened to this man between his arrival to this place and the present.

"However," he digressed, pulling himself back, "I've no way of knowing exactly how long it's been since I was trapped here." The man's orange eyes gave her a level stare. "Time does not pass here in the Realm of Darkness. I may very well be quite a bit older than I previously thought, but if so, I have not aged to reflect that."

Myra's jaw was on the floor, astounded by such ludicrous information. Her entire situation was starting to feel like the plot of one of those Japanese anime that Charlie occasionally forced her to watch with him.

She drew in a steadying breath, trying with all her might not to have a needless outburst in front of this man. "If-" Myra cleared her throat to steady her voice, "-if I'm also going to be here for an… _undetermined_ amount of time, then…" she cast him a desperate glance, "…what exactly am I supposed to do?"

The man's empathetic gaze told her more than she wanted to know.

The thought of being stuck here in this hellish place with those _things,_ without even the luxury of time passing, was horrifying in a way that Myra had never known.

A hard lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

"There's still so much about all this that I don't understand…" she confessed feebly.

"Then, let that be our first order of business," proclaimed the man with a firm nod. Myra blinked owlishly, waiting for him to elaborate. "In order to survive in this universe, you must first understand its ways," he gave a wry smile, "speaking from experience, there is much in this place that is exceedingly difficult to comprehend for people such as you and I."

The man's face set into a serious frown. "The world we come from is quite straightforward, a world of science and logic; but the worlds here operate on a very different set of rules," he stood suddenly, hands folding behind his back regally, "let us move to a more accommodable location for the remainder of our talk. Also, if you can, it would be most helpful if you'd fetch a pen and paper."

The man turned as Myra stood to follow after him. "Come," he said, "we have much to discuss."

An undetermined number of hours ticked by as Myra received the equivalent of a college lecture about hearts, light, darkness, separate worlds, the doors to said worlds, _literal magic,_ Heartless, Nobodies, and any and all phenomenon in between that the man felt it necessary for her to know.

He taught her unwearyingly, with the professionalism of the instructors Myra imagined he'd studied under while attending Oxford. Several sheets of paper were strewn about the kitchen table, which he used to draw diagrams and detailed visualizations of whatever concept he was trying to explain. Sometimes, he even asked her to describe whatever notion or definition he'd just shared in her own words, stating that it would help her to understand in her own way.

Even when Myra's head felt as if it were trying to split open from the shit ton of information being crammed down her throat, the man remained patient with her, simply suggesting they take a short break for her to process before tackling the next subject.

The man was every bit a natural teacher, like he'd done it countless times before.

This thought made Myra grow curious as to his life after coming to this place.

He became silent after she asked him, another wave of sorrow passing over his features. It was gone in a flash however, and he wasted no further time indulging her in his tale.

He didn't meet her eyes once for the entirety of his story.

Nevertheless, Myra listened respectfully as the man recounted how he used his impeccable knowledge acquired from earth to gain the trust and deference of the residents of the world he'd landed in, Radiant Garden. Eventually, his work was considered so revolutionary, that he was hailed as a Sage, and ultimately, made the head of that world.

Myra didn't miss the bitterness in his tone as he said this.

However, Heartless soon began popping up in the peaceful land, threatening both its inhabitants and livelihood. Afraid for his people, the man told her of the extensive research and experiments he carried out in hopes of better understanding how darkness affected hearts and memory, as well as possible ways to prevent it.

It was this very research, however, that would lead to his downfall.

Myra watched with disconcerting bemusement as the man's face _changed,_ his features contorting into a dark scowl, an expression that appeared even more intimidating in the weak glow of the candles Myra had managed to find. His tone morphed into a low, seething hiss as he recalled the six men who'd apprenticed under him; all of whom conspired together to overthrow him, going against his orders to cease some of the more dangerous and… _distasteful_ experiments being performed in their scientific pursuits.

The man refrained from going into any extensive details about said experiments, and somehow, Myra got a feeling that he wasn't even scratching the surface of the full story.

She wasn't sure if he was trying to maintain her opinion of him, or just spare her from the unpleasantness of it all; or, perhaps not revisiting the topic for too long was all he could do to hold back the obvious fury boiling beneath his eyes.

The man blatantly proclaimed that, once he finally made it out of the forsaken realm, one of his first orders of business would be a scheme of revenge against his apprentices.

Myra would be lying if she said the declaration wasn't unnerving…but honestly, who was she to judge?

The man had obviously been wronged by these men, so technically, he had every right to seek justice. In fact, the more Myra listened to him recount his life in that world, the more she began to realize how incredibly difficult – and probably traumatizing – his abduction to this universe was for him…maybe even more than it would be for her.

Oh, Myra had little doubt that this whole… _incident_ was going to have less-than-positive effects on her already less-than-perfect psyche, but she, at the very least, was from an age of frighteningly swift technological advancement, with which came crazy forms of entertainment that made virtually anything seem possible.

Fantastical worlds brought to life by screens and theme parks were widely known and enjoyed by many, and stories featuring situations scarily similar to the one she was currently going through were almost commonplace-

-stories about a _'_ _chosen one'_ embarking into the unknown on a grand quest, one or two special individuals being spirited away to experience a new world, or even something as simple as a super fan writing themselves into the universe of their favorite book, show, or movie to live out some fantasy vicariously through their character were considered run-of-the-mill.

Even outside of the entertainment industry, people liked to theorize about supernatural phenomenon like parallel dimensions, other planets, and life beyond earth in general.

It seemed that a lot of people held a common desire to magically be something more than they thought they were, and Myra absently wondered why this goddamn realm didn't pick one of _them_ to swallow up instead.

In any case, people from Myra's time were generally familiar with seemingly impossible things…even if most never actually expected them to happen.

On the other hand, this man came from a time where the whole concept of a world outside of earth was just becoming real. There was no internet where he came from, no high-budget films and video games with expensive CGI, or virtual reality that gave one the experience of being inserted into a different world to prepare him for what was to come.

To top it off, he actually _watched_ as earth disappeared around him, unlike her, who slept through the ordeal.

To suddenly be thrust into an entirely different universe with no reason or warning, completely alone and forced to learn how to survive in that unfamiliar place must have been nothing short of hell. Then, to miraculously manage to make a life for himself in the environment he was forced into, only for that to be viciously yanked out from under him as well by people he thought he could trust…

Yeah, Myra could understand why he'd be a _tad_ vengeful.

At last, after what may have very well been days, the man decided that Myra had learned enough for the time being, and proceeded to ask if she had any further questions.

She did, even though a part of her was terrified to ask.

"Is there any way you know of to return to earth?"

The man withered at her question. "…I searched many years for a way back. I even attempted to rebuild the very device I thought was responsible for sending me here," he heaved a burdened sigh, "however, nothing I ever tried worked. I even asked a visiting king from another world about it, but he too, had no better suggestions. It seems that, for reasons beyond me, I am destined to live out my days here."

The man sent her an empathetic glance. "…I have no intentions of giving you false hope, child. The best advice I can give you on this matter is to start preparing yourself for a similar fate. I am sorry, Marya."

Myra sat unblinking, expression betraying little of her internal chaos.

Well… _'chaos'_ wasn't really the right word.

What she felt was more of a cold, mind-numbing grief – and with grief, came the five stages, the first of which wasted no time making itself known.

"But…earlier, you said something about travel between worlds being possible," Myra protested, pointing to one of the many diagrams he'd drawn up. This one showed the equivalent of this universe's solar system, with various planets representing worlds scattered throughout. "Earth is a world too, so if one can go between _these_ separate worlds, shouldn't one also be able to theoretically travel to earth as well?"

"I'm afraid it is not that simple," the man slid a clean sheet of paper next to the diagram, "travel between the worlds here is possible because they are all a part of the same universe. However, earth-" he drew a circle on the blank sheet of paper, then separated it from the diagram, "-is not. The worlds here are all connected beneath the same sky. But our world, Marya, lives on a completely separate plane of existence. Just as you could not reach the worlds in _this_ universe by _our_ dimension's means, such as a rocket or spaceship, it is as equally as unlikely to reach ours through the methods of this universe."

"But if that's the case, then how did we end up here in the first place!?" Myra exclaimed, grief's second stage rearing its ugly head.

The man lowered his head. "I…wish I knew, my dear. I wish I knew," he whispered.

A pitiful sound between sorrow and disbelief escaped her throat. Slumping back in her seat, Myra allowed stage three to pass her by without so much as a glance, plunging her into the fourth stage without pity.

Like a switch had been flipped in her brain, all of Myra's basic senses seemed to retreat as she sat there unmoving and silent, unable to accept that life as she knew it had been stolen away faster than she could blink. The man didn't look at her, seeming to understand.

After several minutes passed in a quiet blur, he cleared his throat. "In any case," his tone was slightly apologetic, likely for interrupting her, "speculating about the nature of other universes is meaningless so long as we are trapped in this realm. Before anything else, we must find a way back to the realm of light."

Myra raised her head slightly as indication she was listening, albeit barely.

"Unfortunately," the man continued, voice going bitter, "that in itself will be challenge. Even in this universe, only certain special individuals possess the ability to travel between worlds; those either having an unusually high affinity for magic, such as wizards and witches, or those chosen by the keyblade."

_Keyblade… Keyblade…_

Myra jolted, suddenly at full attention at the mention of that single word. "Did…you say _keyblade_?"

Misunderstanding her recognition for incredulity, the man nodded with a frown. "Indeed. Keyblades are amongst the most powerful of tools in this universe. Their abilities are many, some of which I probably do not know of. True to their name, they can lock or unlock any door, cast spells, release the captive hearts within Heartless, and even open passageways to other worlds. I've heard there used to be many keyblade users, but nowadays, there are very few who can wield them. Apparently, the weapons are somewhat sentient, able to choose their own masters," the man sighed, "but such information matters little, when we are not in possession of one ourselves."

Myra was pale as she slowly looked down at her right hand – the same hand that was bruised and battered from fighting with a weapon that sounded eerily similar to the one he had described.

Could it really be possible?

Was she truly becoming the epitome of the very same _'chosen one'_ trope that she'd always scoffed at in films and books?

But…she didn't have the weapon with her. It had vanished along with the Heartless she'd killed. Perhaps it had just been a…one-time-use kind of thing?

_"Should you choose to accept my help, the road ahead of you will be most difficult."_

Myra wrinkled her brow as the voice's words came back to her. Why would it have said something so ominous if it only intended for her to use it once-

Just as these thoughts entered her head, Myra turned her hand and held it slightly aloft…and a sudden flash of light made her fall out of her chair.

The legs of the man's chair scraped harshly against the floor as he jumped up in shock. "What the devil-!"

Myra sat awkwardly on the floor, breathing harshly as she held the very same black blade at arm's length, eyeing it like would bite her if she allowed it any closer.

Upon seeing the weapon, the man reeled backwards as if he'd been punched.

Before Myra could blink, he was on the floor with her, one hand holding her wrist while the other cradled the head of the blade. She tensed, drawing back as the man studied it with eyes so intense, they almost looked crazed.

"Impossible…" he croaked, body starting to tremble.

Myra only grew further confused as his features crumbled like he was about to cry, then his orange eyes softened fondly like…like he _recognized_ the thing.

"Nevermore…" his broken whisper threw her for yet another loop.

"I…what?" she finally spoke. The man looked up with a start, as if he'd just remembered who was holding the weapon he was eyeing so warmly.

"Th-" he cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, "the name of this keyblade is Nevermore."

As he slid his hand down slowly the blade's body, the soft look in his eyes was suddenly drowned out by alarming sorrow. "I knew its…its _previous_ wielder," his voice cracked through the sentence, and for a moment, Myra was afraid he really _would_ start crying.

However, the man froze in the next moment, as if fully realizing what he was doing. Steeling his expression, he stood up using the edge of the table to balance himself. With a moment's hesitation, he then extended a hand to her, which she took with an equal amount of reluctance.

Once they were both safely on their feet, Myra held up the weapon. "So, this is…?"

The man nodded. "Indeed. Against all odds, its seems you have been chosen-" she flinched at that word, but if he noticed, he said nothing, "-to summon a keyblade."

Something vaguely resembling a grin stretched across his face. "With this, it appears we have a chance of escaping this place. Although-" he eyed her dubiously, "-considering how uncomfortable you seem with it, am I wrong in assuming this is your first time summoning it?"

Myra slowly shook her head. "Actually…right before you found me, it appeared when I was being attacked by those Heartless things." The man arched a brow. "It just appeared, you say?" he asked curiously, clearly fishing for more information. She hesitated, staring down at the keyblade. "Yeah…one minute I didn't have it, the next I did. It's…hard to explain."

Similar to her foreboding dreams, Myra was filled with an unnamable feeling that stopped her from telling him about the mysterious voice.

_Not yet… Not yet…_

The man dropped the subject, but that didn't keep him from eyeing her with an unreadable expression.

"You'll need time to learn how to use it properly," he grimaced, "I'm afraid I will be of little help to you in that endeavor. When we escape this dark realm, you may be able to find a more experienced wielder to teach you, but for now, I fear you'll have to be your own instructor."

Being yanked around by some invisible force, magically pulling off feats she shouldn't be capable of came to Myra's mind, and she couldn't help but wonder about that.

"First and foremost, you'll need to learn how to open a portal to the realm of light," he paused contemplatively, "it may be best to go somewhere not quite as…suffocating as this part of the realm."

Myra watched as the man linked his hands behind his back and paced the floor. "There is an area north of here called the Dark Margin. It is closer to the realm of light than any other part of this world. Perhaps, being nearer to our destination will make the process a bit easier." Spinning on his heal, the man looked her straight in the eye.

"What say you, Marya? Will you come with me?"

Myra blinked, taken aback. "Uh…well, I don't exactly have any other choice," she replied with confusion.

"You are the one with a house and a keyblade, not I. Technically, I am in need of you more than you are of me," the man explained matter-o-factly, "it's entirely possible that you could find a way to the realm of light on your own, if you wished it."

"But I don't know my way around the realm of light," Myra retorted, "even if I were to miraculously get there by myself, I would have no idea what to do or where to go! Wouldn't it be better if I had someone with me who _does_ know?"

The man pursed his lips thoughtfully, the same unreadable look in his eyes from before. "True enough. However, now that you wield the keyblade, it likely will not be difficult to find someone else who would be willing to guide you. I am merely the first person you've met in this place. How do you know if everything I've told you is even the truth? I could be taking advantage of you and the keyblade for my own personal gain."

Myra sent him a puzzled, pensive glance.

He sighed heavily and said, "It is not my intention to mislead you, child. I am simply saying that you have other options, and in your situation, it may be wise to consider them."

Silence engulfed the kitchen, and Myra continued to stare at the man until he averted his gaze.

She found herself wishing she could read his thoughts, or see past all the complicated expressions that filled his orange eyes.

Truthfully, she did not know what to think of this man.

But…

"I'm still going with you."

He furrowed his brows at her words. "You've no need to decide immediately-"

"Look," Myra interrupted, awkwardly putting her weapon down on the table, "you're not exactly wrong. I know I have no reason to trust you...but I also don't have a reason _not_ to trust you," she gestured to the kitchen table, "frankly, I don't really care if you _do_ have alternative motives for wanting to help me, but even so, you still took the time to treat my burn and teach me all about this place, and that was _before_ you knew I had a keyblade. Clearly, not _all_ your intentions are as bad as you're making them sound."

The man looked slightly abashed, but allowed her to continue.

"Neither of us need to read too deeply into this, or anything. Let's just say we're…" Myra gestured vaguely as she tried to put her thoughts into words, "…mutual parties helping each other out. Because _I_ can't do this alone, and from what you've told me, it sounds like you can't either. So let's just agree to be, I don't know, temporary partners or whatever, at least until one or both of us can make it without the other's help. Sound okay?" She finished with one hand resting on a cocked hip, the other offering itself for a shake.

The man held her gaze for a moment, looking at her as if she were unrecognizable to him. Then, he slowly reached out and shook her proffered hand. "…Very well."

Turning away from her, the man moved to peek out the kitchen window. "I shall wait for you to gather whatever belongings you wish to bring with you. Although, I would advise you not to pack too heavily, we have a ways to go until we reach the Dark Margin. Take only what you need." Myra nodded in acknowledgement, though he couldn't see it.

Wandering through her house caused a squeeze of discomfort in Myra's chest.

Nothing looked right.

Nothing sounded right.

Nothing _felt_ right.

Estelle's houseplants were withered and dried out.

She should have heard Charlie swearing at some video game from his room.

Jung Soo's desk, which had been a right mess just the night before, was completely cleared.

The more she roamed the empty house, the more she felt as though she might suffocate.

Myra finally shut herself in her bedroom, the only room left in the house that was practically unchanged. Perhaps the man's memory theory held some substance; it would explain why her room and most of the upstairs bathroom were still recognizable, as they were the rooms she frequented the most.

Searching through her bag, she also found that its contents were unaffected, likely because she'd just packed it the night before.

Standing uncomfortably in the middle of her room, Myra glanced around, one part of her wondering if she should bother packing anything else, and the other wondering if this was the last time she'd ever see her room.

Attempting to push such depressing thoughts away, Myra first changed into a different shirt, as the one she'd been wearing now had a gaping hold burned into the sleeve. She then proceeded to shove as much of her wardrobe as she could into her travel bag.

Though she had no way of knowing exactly what she might need, she did know that her four-day trip had just been _significantly_ extended.

Once Myra had stuffed the bag to almost bursting, her gaze wandered over to her bedside drawer.

A part of her _cringed_ at the very thought of bringing that old thing with her…but then again, she _had_ just undergone a rather foreboding dream the night before and awoken in an entirely different universe.

Perhaps her teenage self had been on to something when she convinced herself that her dreams were some kind of window to the supernatural.

However, when Myra opened the drawer – her notebook was gone.

For a brief moment she was confused; why would her journal be the only item missing from the move?

Then, she recalled the man's story about the library books, and her shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance.

Even if her notebook had been there, it would likely be missing most of its entries.

With that, Myra cast one last glance around her bedroom before trudging back downstairs, where the man was waiting by the front door.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name," Myra called, alerting him to her presence.

If he was surprised by her question, his body language didn't give him away.

"Ah…so I haven't," he replied, not turning to face her.

Myra trotted up to him, brow furrowing when he remained silent.

When he finally answered her, his voice was low and hesitant. "I am going by Diz nowadays. I cast off my true name shortly after being banished to this realm."

"Oh…" was Myra's lackluster reply. She remembered him mentioning something about one of his former apprentices writing several reports of the heinous experiments they performed under his name, so she could understand why he might not want to be associated with that name for a bit.

"However," Diz continued, "because you and I shall be…partners in the foreseeable future, it may be best for you to know it just in case."

He glanced at her briefly from the corner of his eye. "My true name is Ansem." Diz began walking out the door following his declaration, but Myra didn't immediately follow.

" _Ansem… Ansem…"_

Strange…why did that name sound so familiar?

As Myra finally convinced her legs to follow after Diz, another realization dawned on her:

 _"He…never did explain how he knew my name,"_ she thought.

Though she hadn't the slightest clue how, Myra was certain that Diz knew who she was. Why else would he have asked her if she recognized him when he first approached her?

And somehow, Myra had a faint feeling that she knew him, too…

Her fingers clutched the straps of her bag until her knuckles went white.

Though she loathed to admit it, more and more this place seemed determined to convince her that she was here for a reason.

For her to be spirited away to some other dimension and be attacked by strange creatures, only to magically summon the very weapon that was their one weakness, then the first person she meets just _happens_ to be another from her world _and_ a possible key to her missing past was just-

It was _far_ too coincidental.

It was like some great deity of fate had personally elected to drop her here.

Well, that deity could go screw itself, as far as Myra was concerned.

Casting a glance at the back of Diz's head, she decided to save the mystery of their relation for another day.

For all she knew, there could be a very good reason that he wasn't telling her.

More than anything though, Myra was tired.

Tired, injured, and longing for home.

But home was far out of her reach now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...yeah. I'm really sorry that this chapter is pretty much just a bunch of talking, but everything here had to be gotten out of the way. 'Tis the price you pay when you decide to write this kind of OC insert.
> 
> I'll be the first to admit that this story may start out a bit slow. My priorities for the first few chapters included introducing my OC, accustoming her to the new environment, and establishing a role for her in the KH story line. But I assure you, once the real plot gets going, (AKA something recognizable from the games) it will be well worth it.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you'll still stick around, because there are a few certain interactions with a few certain characters coming around in the next couple of chapters that I'm super excited to write, even though they'll be small in terms of significance to the actual plot. What can I say, I'm greedy, and I want to write in all the KH characters somehow or another, because I freaking love them all so much!
> 
> Reviews & Constructive Criticism are always welcome! :)


	3. Eggplant Calzones

The realm of darkness was nothing to sneeze at.

Aside from the hordes of Heartless that seemed to enjoy hindering their progress, the land itself was a struggle to trek; from sloping valleys that threatened to upset one's balance with each step, to looming hills that seemed to have faces, this world was determined to challenge them in every way possible.

Myra soon discovered what Diz had meant when he'd claimed that his eyes adjusted to the dark – for when they passed through a cavern so dark that even the glowing eyes of a Heartless weren't visible, hers adjusted as well.

It was incredibly strange once she realized…it wasn't so much that she could _see,_ per se, but the silhouettes of everything around her came into focus, much like seeing an object's afterimage once you've looked away from it. Myra couldn't make out color or details, but she could see enough to make her way through the cave without having to hold onto Diz's sleeve like a lost child. In any case, it was a good thing her eyes corrected themselves, because things only got harder from there.

They squeezed through a few narrow crevices that touched her front and back, making Myra whisper words of thanks to whatever god existed in this place that she wasn't claustrophobic. They traveled through broken remnants of towns and sad parodies of cities that Diz explained used to be part of the realm of light.

No matter where they went or how long they walked, the sky remained the same deep shade of purple, or turned black with endless night, and Myra soon lost track of the time; with no day and night cycle and her phone shut off to preserve its battery, it was a damn near impossible task.

However, it mattered little. Diz hadn't been lying when he claimed time didn't pass in this realm, for regardless of how long they walked, Myra never felt an ounce of hunger, thirst, nor sleepiness.

Oh, she was _tired_ for damn sure, but not _sleepy._ To her, those words held two very different meanings.

However, though their bodies were immune to exhaustion, they were not immune to fatigue. Thus, they occasionally still stopped to rest their aching muscles and rewrap Myra's injury.

The burn on her arm was healing quicker than expected; having worked in a restaurant for so long, she was no stranger to bad burns, and they normally took a few weeks to fully heal. Myra didn't think too much of it though, for there were too many other things demanding her attention.

Overall, their journey was spent mostly in silence. Diz didn't try to rope her into conversation, electing to only speak when spoken to, or when he felt it was completely necessary. Occasionally, Myra would catch him looking back at her while walking, or staring at her across from wherever they were resting, as if he was affirming that she was still there. She couldn't really judge him for such actions, as she sometimes found herself doing the same to him as she tried to puzzle out why he was so familiar to her. There were a few tentative theories in her mind, but Myra lacked both the evidence and the audacity to test any of them.

On several occasions of studying the mysterious Diz, she noticed him writing in a journal, especially when they took breaks. _"Writing,"_ he told her once, _"is the only thing that has allowed me to keep my sanity in this place."_ His comment made Myra wish she had her own notebook to write in, regardless of how silly she thought it to be…particularly when she took the time to examine her new weapon in detail.

Although Diz had taken the liberty of leading them on a secluded path through the realm to minimize Heartless attacks, the little shadows still found their way to them. Each time without fail, Myra found the keyblade in her hand before she could even get into a defensive position, and just like that terrifying ordeal in front of her house, her body went on a violent autopilot before taking care of them. Unsurprisingly, Diz had noticed her strange fighting style.

The scientist said her movements were jerky and unnatural, and she held Nevermore like an active bomb. Upon describing what happened to her whenever she fought with it, Diz was both intrigued and baffled, but had no answer to give for her strange predicament. _"The ways of the keyblade are still very much a mystery to me,"_ he'd said, _"regardless, stronger and smarter Heartless may notice your ailment and take advantage of it in the future. You must be able to fight on your own. Perhaps you should attempt to train with it, if you feel you are ready."_

" _Do I even have the luxury of being ready right now?"_ Myra had replied.

Following taking Diz's suggestion, she realized what a struggle it was to summon Nevermore of her own will. According to the scientist, it was possible to summon a keyblade any time regardless of the wielder's situation; but for Myra, unless she was in active danger, it seemed that the weapon hesitated to answer her call.

 _"Maybe because I'm not its true owner,"_ she had theorized. The fact of the matter was, Myra was only borrowing this keyblade. The strange voice had told her as much.

Nevertheless, whenever she did manage to get the weapon to come to her, Myra attempted to practice with it…keyword being _attempt._

As someone who'd never even taken a self-defense class, she didn't have the slightest clue what to do with the oversized key. She tried to copy the movements she recalled her body doing during fights, and succeeded to an extent, but with far less finesse and much more awkwardness. Her efforts made her feel like a kid swinging a stick around in the backyard, and it was beyond humiliating. Myra always made sure she was out of Diz's sight whenever she practiced to avoid any more unnecessary embarrassment. Never let it be said that she didn't try.

After taking a rest following one such training session, Myra got the chance to study Nevermore better than she had previously, which brought up some interesting and troubling realizations on her part.

It was a rather beautiful weapon, intricately sculpted and layered with details she'd been too frazzled to notice before. Six birds carved out in silver, all depicted in various positions, trailed down the body of the blade. The two-sided guard was shaped like a pair of wings, and hanging from the grip was a keychain that portrayed some kind of emblem with yet another bird in its center.

Myra had shortly pondered whether the birds were crows or ravens, (she had mildly hoped it would be the latter as an amusing reference to a certain work of Edgar Allen Poe) but one look at the fanned tail confirmed that they were certainly crows.

 _Of course_ they were crows.

Just like the ones she'd seen in her odd dreams more times than she could count.

Just like the one she had tattooed along the radius of her right forearm.

Diz had noticed the tattoo not long into their journey, eyeing it with a curious expression. Upon inquiring about her choice of ink, Myra had simply replied, _"I saw it in a dream."_

When she looked at Nevermore with displeasure, she wished more than anything that her notebook had not vanished upon her arrival here. During her teenage years, Myra had looked up many superstitions regarding crows, hoping to find answers to her dreams.

In recent years, she had tried to pass the birds' appearances off as a simple recurring theme in her dreams; after all, it wasn't uncommon for people to dream of the same thing over and over. However, she had never been able to shake the curiosity for her unconscious choice of repeating dream.

Normally, when one experienced a frequent dream, it was the result of a subconscious emotion, longing, or fear that they harbored. For many that dream was falling, flying, or teeth falling out; but for Myra, that dream was of _crows_ of all things. Not even a certain crow, or a crow doing one particular thing each dream. Whether it was in the background, the foreground, a side character, the main role, a single bird or a whole flock, crows almost always appeared in her dreams. Now she had a mystical weapon that, according to Diz, was some kind of reflection of its wielder's heart, and _what_ was the theme of this weapon?

Another. Stupid. _Crow._

Myra gave a huff of frustration, letting Nevermore go slack in her grip. She couldn't decide if the blade was heavy or not…just holding it was a bizarre sensation sometimes.

Leaning against a jagged boulder, she flashed back to the many hours her teenage self spent on the internet researching the black bird.

Many supernatural and divination themed websites Myra had consulted stated that seeing crows in dreams represented an important message regarding one's future. Some said the crow could be her spirit animal, there to represent her intelligence, flexibility, and _destiny_ amongst other nonsense. That part hadn't interested her.

Crows were commonly understood as a symbol of death or a bad omen, but in actuality, that was only in the case of one crow. In groups, crows were said to have an array of meanings, depending upon their exact number.

Setting Nevermore in her lap, Myra peered down at it once more. Including the one on the keychain and the crow's head that made up the tip of the blade, Nevermore depicted eight crows in total. Furrowing her brows, Myra tried to recall what eight crows supposedly symbolized. "How did that rhyme go again?" she muttered.

" _One for sorrow, two for mirth. Three for a wedding, and four for a birth. Five for silver, six for gold. Seven for a secret not to be told."_

"Damn," she sighed, "I can't remember anymore. Did that rhyme even go past seven? Ugh!"

If only she had her stupid notebook! She'd written down all kinds of crap about crow lore in that thing! Figures the first time she actually needed it, it was nowhere to be found.

Myra's musings were brought to an end when Diz appeared and announced it was time to move on. Allowing Nevermore to vanish to wherever-the-hell-it-went-when-not-with-her, she forced her tired muscles to stand and follow the man. Eyes falling to the tattoo on her arm, Myra pursed her lips before covering it with her sleeve.

Oh well. She was probably just overthinking it anyway.

As the tough, dead ground slowly gave way to soft, shifting earth, Diz informed her that they were nearly there. A salty tang in the air filled her nostrils and the distinct sound of moving waters reached her ears, making Myra furrow her brows in confusion. "Are we at a beach?" she inquired. Looking over his shoulder, Diz replied, "You could say that."

Before she could ask him to elaborate, a white light caught Myra's eye, drawing her full attention. Jogging ahead, her lips parted in awe at the sight of a large, foggy moon hanging on the horizon. It was the only source of legitimate light Myra had seen in this place.

The moon shined down on a vast, black ocean, casting its pale reflection upon the dark waters. A crown of dead trees snaked up from the sea, circling the moon like a thorny halo.

It was a hauntingly beautiful sight, unlike anything Myra had ever seen before.

Slowly, she knelt down and raked her fingers through the sand, finding it cool to the touch. This beach was the first real sign of life she'd found in this place; up until now, it had been nothing but dead trees and swarms of Heartless.

As the atmosphere washed over her, Myra felt a true sense of calm for the first time since being thrown from her world.

Until now, she had been wandering about in a sorry state of tired numbness, focusing only on staying alive and putting one foot in front of the other to keep herself together.

Beaches and the idea of the ocean had always been a favorite of hers, and – if she were being completely honest – Myra thought she might fall in love with this place were she not trapped in a realm of literal darkness with nowhere to go.

"The edge of the Dark Realm," remarked Diz, his sudden appearance making her jump, "the Dark Margin."

Rising to her feet, Myra eyed the man's set expression. "Not exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to the end of the realm of darkness," she stated. Diz hummed before saying, "It's possible that these waters touch the shores of a world in the realm of light. Although, I am unsure of which one." Myra blinked at the news. "Wait, so…worlds can be separated by nothing but an ocean here? How is that any different from the countries or islands back on earth?"

"Well," Diz explained, "unlike on earth, we could not reach the other shores simply by sailing there on a boat. In order to cross between worlds, a portal of some kind is required," he turned his gaze onto her, "that is where you come in, my dear." Placing a hand on her shoulder, so gently that she could barely feel his touch, Diz's forehead creased with severity. "With your keyblade Marya, you can open such a portal. Then, we can both be free of this place."

The weight of his words made her feel dizzy.

"I want to help, but…" she squeezed her hands together, "…I can barely even summon that thing right now. How do you know I'll be able to open a literal portal?" Diz's orange eyes softened, a glazed sort of expression entering them. "…Call it a feeling I have," he said gently, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before releasing her. He turned his attention towards the ocean before them, missing the way Myra's brows arched in confusion.

 _A feeling?_ That didn't sound like something a man of science would put his faith in…

"Alright…well, do you have any idea how I'm supposed to do that?" she asked, brushing away his strange remark. There was a beat of silence before he answered. "I don't know too much. The-" Diz's hands trembled behind his back, "-previous owner of Nevermore once said it was an exercise in both power and will. To cross between worlds is to open one's heart to new possibilities and be willing to step out into the unknown."

Myra avoided commenting on the man's wobbling voice, the same one that overtook him every time he mentioned the _'previous owner'_ of her keyblade. She was undoubtedly curious about the mystery wielder, but it was clear that this person was a sore subject for Diz, so she could never bring herself to ask.

Besides…if her theory that this previous wielder and the mysterious voice from before were one in the same was correct, it meant that Myra may have very well spoken to a ghost, or a spirit, or whatever the hell else existed in this universe, which was a whole can of worms she was _not_ prepared to open right now.

"Great, that explanation helps me…not very much," Myra deadpanned. With a sigh, Diz replied, "Forgive me. I wish I had better advice to give you." With a slight grunt, the scientist lowered himself onto a large, black rock. "Rest for now, if you'd prefer. You can learn on your own time…" Diz narrowed his eyes, "…heaven knows we have more than enough of it in this place." He paused to take out the journal that he was so fond of writing in. "We will remain here until you succeed. This close to the realm of light, we are far less susceptible to attacks."

Silence fell around them then, the only sounds being the lull of the waves and the scratching of Diz's pen against the pages of his book. Myra sat cross-legged on the cold sand, letting the breeze flirt with her hair.

It really was pretty here. The beach was far more tranquil without the blazing sun, suffocating crowds, Estelle trying to get her to pose for a photo every five minutes, Charlie making an utter fool of himself-

_Nope._

_Backing right out of that train of thought!_

_Nope, nope, nope._

Myra bit back an irritated sigh. It seemed she couldn't sit still for even one minute without her treacherous brain wandering off to places she didn't want it to.

Climbing to her feet, she set her mind to the task at hand. The quicker she got to it, the quicker they would make it out of here.

Besides…it was the only distraction available.

The nonexistent time began to tick by once more, ignorant of its effect upon the living residents in the realm. Though Myra's body did not tire, her mental and emotional exhaustion was unlike anything she'd experience before…and as she continued to struggle with her borrowed blade, her frustration only grew.

Diz commented on her stance now and then, or offered words of gentle advice and encouragement. For the most part however, the man left Myra to her own devices, allowing her the space and freedom to get comfortable with the keyblade.

She now found herself standing at the ocean's edge, letting the icy water brush her bare toes. Nevermore was held aloft in both hands, which were wrapped with bandages to prevent any further blistering. Sweat slid down her temple and dripped onto the sand below.

Several times, Myra had almost been on the verge of a breakthrough; something in her chest would lurch in response to her quiet prayers, causing Nevermore's tip to glow an ethereal white. However, it would last for only a few tedious moments before dying out without explanation.

Each failure served as a catalyst for Myra's increasing infuriation. She didn't even understand how she was getting it to glow in the first place, much less what she was doing wrong. All she knew was that _something_ had to be happening, otherwise it wouldn't feel like every drop of energy had been sapped from her body.

Honestly, Myra hadn't felt this exhausted since the Valentine's Day dinner rush of 2016 at the restaurant, a night that still haunted her to this day.

Lines stretching out the door, overstuffing the dishwasher, fingers red from burns, not being able to hear herself think over the shouts of joy that came from someone proposing every hour or so, making _eighty-two plates of carbonara-_

" _Dammit woman, FOCUS!"_

Myra's scattered thoughts screamed at her, and she blinked herself back to reality – a reality that swiftly reminded her where she was, and what she had yet to accomplish.

The blonde bit the inside of her cheek in a wavering attempt to calm the torrent of anger that assaulted her, but with little success.

She was so sick of it all: the darkness, the Heartless, her situation, _herself._

Even the tranquility of the beach no longer reached her; all her mind could focus on was how much she wanted to leave, wanted to go home, wanted something to make sense, wanted to _Get. Out!_

Myra tasted copper on her tongue just as something came alight in her chest.

It began as a light burning, like the sensation of drinking strong alcohol. Rather than try and make it stop, she chose to foster the feeling, allowing it to spread throughout her being. The burning evolved into stinging, like a set of claws behind her ribcage sinking themselves into her heart. Myra's knees trembled as they threatened to give out beneath her, but she stabbed her keyblade into the sand to use as a makeshift crutch, and managed to hold herself up. Though her breath came in sharp pants and fear pricked the back of her mind, it was too late to turn back now.

Slowly, the pain subsided, leaving her feeling both hot and cold, like she'd been laying on an ice cube for too long.

Then, an unknown sensation struck; as if something had snaked through her body and burrowed itself deep in her chest, Myra felt a presence somewhere within her.

_To cross between worlds, you must open your heart to new possibilities…_

Diz's words arose from the fog that had fallen in her mind. Was… _this_ what he'd meant? Did the phrase _'open your heart'_ mean something a bit more… _literal_ in this universe?

_Step out into the unknown…_

Shakily, Myra raised Nevermore; the blade appeared unchanged, aside from the jewels that served as the crow's eyes. Rather than crimson, they were now a glowing violet.

 _Do not fear us,_ a whispery voice said.

Bringing her other hand to her chest, Myra fisted the fabric of her shirt that sat above her heart.

_We are not to be feared…_

The presence within lingered, as if waiting on her to make the next move.

Closing her eyes, Myra took a deep breath-

_YOU are not to be feared._

-and reached for it.

_WHOOSH_

Eyes snapping open, she stumbled and fell back on her rear at the sight before her.

An oval-shaped, swirling vortex of purple and black sprouted into existence, hovering over the water ominously.

Panting softly, Myra somehow managed to climb to her feet. As she subconsciously dusted the sand off her jeans, something wet trickled down her chin. Upon wiping it off, her fingers came away with red stains.

"Shit," she mumbled just as a familiar voice called out, "Marya!"

Said blonde whipped around with a start, spotting Diz standing a few feet away. "Step away from that, Marya!" the man warned, eyes wide with terror. Myra quickly obeyed, taking several paces backwards as Diz jogged towards her. "Are you alright?" he inquired, placing both hands on her shoulders. She nodded automatically, causing him to arch an incredulous brow. "You say you are, even though you appear to be bleeding from both your mouth and nose?"

Blinking rapidly, Myra cupped a hand around the lower half of her face as she looked down, causing several drops of blood to fall on her palm. "Uh…" she replied eloquently.

The bleeding in her mouth was due to a wound on her inner cheek, likely caused by her biting down on it too hard. However, she had no clue why her nose was bleeding, a fact that was…mildly disconcerting.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt, so…yeah…" Myra trailed off, not knowing what she could say to convince him. For the most part, Diz was a composed and level-headed companion, but he did tend to be a bit trepid when it came to her wellbeing.

Orange eyes sweeping her form, the scientist sighed lightly before retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. "Use this to clean yourself up, and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It will stop the bleeding in your nose," he instructed. While Myra complied with his suggestion, the two fell silent as they turned their attention to the thing she had brought forth.

"Is that…the portal you were talking about?" she asked from behind the handkerchief. Diz regarded the door-shaped vortex with narrow eyes. "That is no portal," he murmured, "that is a _corridor."_

Myra's eyes shifted from side to side in confusion. "And…that would be…?" Diz regarded her with an unreadable gaze. "A corridor of darkness," the scientist clarified, "part of a series of paths used by dark beings to travel between worlds." A mild shudder ran down her spine as she shuffled her feet uncomfortably, unsure how to feel about the news. "That's a…bad thing, right?"

From what Myra understood about this weird-ass universe, anything _"dark"_ equaled bad, and anything _"light"_ equaled good. Personally, she found the whole concept to be ridiculously arbitrary and childish.

Diz remained silent, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he studied the corridor's entrance. Then, he suddenly approached it with long, confident strides.

"Diz-!" Myra exclaimed, jogging after the scientist. She watched warily as he reached out, until his left arm was elbow-deep in the vortex. After a tense second, he withdrew it. Thankfully, the limb was intact and unchanged.

"Tell me Marya," said Diz, flexing his hand experimentally, "do you feel any different?"

"Different…how?" she asked tentatively. "Do you feel ill? Hurt? Changed? Does anything seem even the slightest bit off?" he elaborated, orange eyes examining her closely.

Pausing, Myra absentmindedly rubbed the spot on her chest that covered her heart. When she regarded herself seriously for a moment, she sensed the same bizarre sensation from before, humming beneath her bones like a ball of electricity. It was neither pleasant nor painful. It was just…there, like an internal organ that had been hiding within her all along.

"Actually…" Myra began hesitantly, "…I do kind of feel something here. Like…a presence or something that wasn't there before that thing appeared," she gestured at the corridor with her eyes.

Diz looked down with a thoughtful hum. "Given that you were able to open a corridor…" the scientist cast her a wide-eyed glance, "…means that you have successfully harnessed the darkness' power, Marya." She quickly matched his stunned expression, looking down at her hands like she was afraid of them. "Bu- how, I-I thought you said only creatures of darkness could do that-" she froze, a feeling of dread falling over her, "-am…am I danger? Will I become one of those things!?"

"Be calm, my dear," Diz said evenly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If the darkness was going to swallow you, it would have done so already. The fact that you still stand here even after using the darkness means that your heart is strong enough not to allow itself to be consumed…" the scientist trailed off, looking suddenly thoughtful. "Or…" he mused, holding his chin, "…perhaps…is it possible that you and I possess some degree of immunity to the darkness? Truly, we have been able to survive here in darkness' realm without losing ourselves to it. Given the dimension we come from, where darkness and light are not the same tangible forces they are here, could it be that we are naturally less susceptible to them? After all, our hearts were mere organs back on earth-"

Myra looked around awkwardly as Diz rattled on about light, darkness, and their hearts' possible vulnerability to said elements, all while the corridor's entrance continued to loom beside them.

Although the scientist had already spent a good amount of time explaining everything to her, she still had a hard time wrapping her head around it all. Almost nothing he told her about this dimension's ways made any logical sense.

…Then again, being dropped into an entirely different universe overnight and being given a magical weapon by a disembodied voice wasn't exactly _"logical"_ either.

"Uh, Diz?" Myra finally interjected. Pausing in the midst of some darkness-related science babble, the man blinked down at her. Gesturing to the corridor with her head prompted a slightly abashed look from him. "Ah, yes-" he cleared his throat, "-forgive me. There will be time to theorize later. For now…" Diz turned toward the dark entrance, giving it a sweeping glance. "I suppose we should see where this takes us."

"Wait, what!?" Myra protested, "Yo-You want to go _in_ that thing!?" She'd expected him to suggest a way to _close_ the spooky, dark portal, not _go through_ it. Wasn't that one of the basic rules of sci-fi and horror!?

Diz pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering. "Were this to happen shortly after I first came to this place, I would have more reservations myself. However, now…" he wavered, and Myra could tell by his darting eyes that he was trying to put his thoughts into words.

Finally, Diz fixed her with a set, resolute glance. "Marya, we set out together to seek an escape from this realm. I know you've felt a lot of pressure to succeed in our venture – no need to deny it, believe me, I know the feeling quite well myself – and although you accomplished our goal through… _different_ means than expected, you did indeed accomplish it."

Diz tilted his gaze towards the sky. "And if there is one thing I've learned being trapped in this infernal place, it's that there is far more to darkness than meets the eye," he uttered reflectively.

"In my own judgement," proclaimed the scientist, brusquely snapping his attention back to the corridor, "if the darkness wants to provide us with a way out of here, then for once, I shall not question it. I've been in this place long enough!"

One moment, Diz was gritting his teeth and glaring at nothing, the next, he had suddenly deflated as he drew in steady breaths, as if trying to calm himself down.

"…However," he cast Myra an even stare, "you have not been here nearly as long as I. You also haven't fully adjusted to the wonders of this universe quite yet. It's natural for you to be wary of the unknown."

Had it been anyone else, Myra might have taken offense to such statements; she strongly disliked being accused of naivety, not to mention treated like she was delicate and inexperienced. However, in this case, she knew the scientist wasn't wrong. Moreover, Diz spoke to her levelly and respectfully, so she didn't feel like she was being belittled or underestimated.

"You hold the key, figuratively _and_ literally, out of here," Diz continued, "and you chose to accompany me, though you did not have to. I also promised to guide you in the realm of light, and I intend to keep my word. Given these facts, I would say it is you who possess the rights for decision-making in this case." The scientist's eyes softened as a tiny, comforting smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll not enter the corridors alone. If you would rather not risk them, then we can stay here and search for a safer way to the realm of light. It's your choice, Marya."

Said blonde's eyes were like saucers as she stared incredulously at Diz. "I-" she cleared her throat, "-I don't know…how can you be so sure I'll make the right choice?"

_"How can you so certain? How can you trust me so blindly?"_

The man tilted his head in sympathy. "There are far less 'right' and 'wrong' choices in life than you think, my dear. But I believe it's better to make _any_ choice than sit idly in indecision."

Myra flinched. Sighing shakily, she pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand while the other planted itself on her hip. "…I think I'm starting to see why people called you 'Ansem the Wise' back in your world."

She didn't see Diz cringe at the name. "…Perhaps," he mumbled.

Several tense moments passed, and Myra felt as though her anxiousness was tangible in the air. Diz remained silent, patiently waiting for his young companion to sort out her thoughts.

He blinked in surprise when she gave an exaggerated groan before turning around and stomping away. The scientist watched with wonderment as Myra wrestled on her shoes and tossed her bag onto her back. Then, she approached with taut shoulders and a high head. Without a word, she cast him a brief glance before gesturing to the portal.

A beat of stillness passed, Diz studying her quietly, before he nodded in acknowledgment. As both parties set their attention on the corridor, Myra tentatively reached for it, mirroring Diz's action from earlier.

She flinched only slightly when her fingertips brushed the entrance. It didn't feel terribly unusual…if she closed her eyes and reached out blindly, she could mistake it for nothing more than chilled air, as if she'd put her hand in front of an air-conditioning vent.

Taking one last deep breath to steel herself, Myra moved forward, and stepped into the corridor.

The inside was a long tube of twisting shadows with no physical walls, ground, or ceiling that were visible to the human eye. Myra felt immediately disoriented, as if she'd entered a perverted funhouse attraction. She didn't know _what_ they were walking on, because she couldn't feel anything beneath her feet, or even hear the slightest footstep.

It was all she could do to stop herself from looking down, afraid that if she did, she might fall.

She did, however, turn around for a brief moment, only to find that the way they'd come in had completely vanished. No turning back now, Myra realized with a dry gulp.

The shadows around them expanded and contracted like a pair of breathing lungs, making the end of the corridor impossible to see.

If there even _was_ an end.

"Diz…" Myra whispered nervously. "Steady, Marya. Just keep walking. It will be alright," the scientist assured. Sucking in a shuddery breath, Myra absently reached out and took hold of Diz's red scarf. If he noticed, he mercifully refrained from commenting.

They walked at a steady pace without pause, for there was nowhere to stop and rest in this place. The unnatural silence was eerie; in the realm of darkness, there was least an occasional gust of wind and tangible ground to make sound.

But here…it was so quiet, Myra struggled to think straight.

Just as she was severely second-guessing her decision, another dark doorway materialized before them. It jutted out like a blemish against the rest of the shadowy walls, with dark, inky tendrils oozing from the base.

"Is…that…?" Myra murmured, eyeing the door cagily. "Yes," Diz breathed, "that should lead us to the realm of light."

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the scientist's slightly labored breathing. "The corridors can have negative effects on the body if exposed to them for too long," Diz explained shortly, "once we get through that door, I should be fine." Nodding jerkily in understanding, Myra followed him to the door, pausing only to shut her eyes before passing through it.

Unlike the corridor's entrance, when she stepped into the exit, there was a minor barrier that greeted her; it felt like a thin membrane of some kind, a wall of slimy, organic matter that barred the way.

Thankfully, she was able to break through it easily, but it didn't stop her from cringing viciously.

After conquering _that_ particular obstacle, there was a surprising _CRUNCH_ beneath her foot.

Myra slowly peeled her eyes open, only to shut them again with a hiss at how ungodly bright it wa-

Wait…bright?

As in, _light?_

Giving her eyes a good rub, she forced them open once again to confirm that what she'd seen hadn't been a hallucination. Once her vision came into focus, the first thing Myra saw was trees.

Lots of trees.

 _Living_ trees.

Beneath her feet was not barren, cracked dirt, but a field of lush, green grass that crunched healthily with every step. Weak rays of _actual, honest-to-god SUNLIGHT_ peaked through the canopy of leaves, and when she looked up, Myra was treated to a sky that was _not_ black or purple, but a stunning blend of gold, orange, pink, and red.

It was the most beautiful evening sky she'd ever seen.

As a warm breeze caressed her skin, Myra's eyes watered, both from relief and joy at seeing the sun again, and the slight burn that came with adjustment. It seemed her eyes had grown a bit _too_ used to the dark.

_CAW CAW_

The sudden racket of bird calls startled Myra more than she cared to admit. Craning her neck upwards, she spotted the first true living beings aside from Diz and herself that she'd seen since appearing in the realm of darkness: crows.

Six of them, to be exact, all perched in the nearest surrounding trees, and seemed to be staring right at her.

"Fuck…" Myra cursed under her breath.

_"Don't tell me this stupid keyblade comes with the ability to attract crows, too…god, that would be SO annoying!"_

Spinning on her heel, the blonde swiftly walked away from the beady eyes staring her down, instead directing her attention on finding where Diz had wandered off to.

She found him sitting at the base of a tree. The scientist was leaning against the trunk taking slow, steady breaths with his eyes closed.

"Are you sure you're okay, Diz?" Myra inquired as she crouched beside him. Orange eyes slowly slid open to acknowledge her. "I will be fine after I rest for a moment. More importantly," the closest thing to a grin she'd ever seen on him stretched across his face, "we've done it. At long last, we are out of that dreaded realm!" Myra smiled as a breathy laugh escaped him, and she absently realized it was the first time she'd ever heard Diz laugh.

While she was of course, beyond relieved to finally be rid of that place, she couldn't imagine how Diz must feel. He'd been stuck there far longer than she.

"So, any idea where we are?" Myra asked as she sat next to him. The scientist hummed contemplatively. "I do not know much about the worlds outside of Radiant Garden, nor am I very familiar with how the corridors of darkness operate. Given that you summoned one with no destination in mind, we could very well be anywhere. However, we didn't walk for very long, so this world must not be that far from the Dark Realm. I'll have to somehow do more research on the corridors for future trips…" as Diz trailed off, his eyes widened as if he'd suddenly realized something.

"Perhaps you should check your belongings, Marya," he suggested, nodding to her backpack. "The barriers of some worlds can affect certain items, or even the bodies of the individuals that pass through them. Best to be sure that everything made it through in one piece." Blinking at the news, Myra hastily dropped her bag from her shoulders and zipped it open.

Everything in the main section seemed okay, along with the toiletries and portable chargers in the side compartments. However, upon opening the front pocket, Myra immediately noticed something off: her white billfold was larger than it should have been.

It was also _heavier,_ she discovered when picking it up.

"What in the-" her lips parted in astonishment when she opened it.

Her driver's license was missing its number along with other fine details, but that was most likely because it was a copy of the original, like the house back in the Dark Realm. That wasn't what had stunned her so-

Myra's credit and debit cards were all missing. Instead, the change pocket was filled with gold coins that she'd never seen before. They were larger in both circumference and thickness than any American coin, the number one hundred was engraved along their edges, and pictured on the front and back was a clock tower.

Finally, Myra pulled out stacks of unfamiliar bills where there should have been dollars. The bills were orange, pink, and red, their numbers ranging from 1,000 at the lowest, to 50,000 at the highest. Like the gold coins, they also featured a clock tower in lieu of a person, and the writing along the top of every bill read, _'Twilight Town.'_

"Something the matter?" Diz asked, snapping Myra out of her stunned stupor. "I-" she attempted to answer, but lacking appropriate words to do so, she elected to show him instead.

"Ah, money! Excellent, we'll be needing it soon," Diz flitted his gaze up to her. "Although, judging by your shocked expression, I take it this is not the same kind of money you previously had in your wallet?" Myra shook her head. "Not even close," she deadpanned. "May I?" the scientist requested, extending an open palm. With a shrug, she handed one to him, watching as he studied it briefly. "It's likely the currency of this world. The magic in the barrier must have changed it upon entering here. Quite convenient, I must say." Diz peered at the bill. " _'Twilight Town…'_ that must be the name of this world. Very good, Marya. I've no doubt this will prove very helpful," he said, handing the bill back to her. "Thanks, but I literally didn't do anything…" she mumbled, zipping her billfold shut.

Diz's explanation made sense, but what didn't add up was _how much_ money she now had. Though Myra didn't know anything about this place's currency, the sheer amount of bills and coins was ridiculous. She'd only had about fifty dollars' worth of cash in her billfold…did all this really only add up to that much?

As she tucked her billfold away, Myra's gaze fell to the tattoo on her arm. A shudder wracked her body as she was reminded of the six crows from before, the way they all creepily stared down at her like they could see into her head-

_Five for silver,_ _**six for gold.** _

Like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, Myra rapidly froze. Her tattoo itched strangely, but her eyes were focused solely on her lumpy billfold.

_Six crows…_

Six were said to symbolize a change in one's monetary status.

_"No…that's ridiculous!"_

Regardless of how badly Myra wanted to scream, _"It's just a coincidence!"_ she'd seen too much to doubt the signs now.

 _"Stupid…fucking…CROWS!"_ she thought, oblivious to her left eye's spastic twitching.

_"Why did I get one permanently tattooed on me again? Oh yeah. I was a dumb teenager. I don't suppose this universe has any way for me to travel back in time and stop myself from being such an impulsive moron?"_

The distant screech of a train whistle pulled Myra from her self-derisive thoughts. They both looked in the direction of the sound. "So…should we go and see what kind of place we've ended up in?" suggested Myra. "Yes," replied Diz as he carefully climbed to his feet. Her hands hovered next to the scientist fretfully in case he stumbled, but he waved off her concern with a reassuring smile. "However, I do not think we should both go at the same time," his brow wrinkled in thought, "in fact, it may be better if I were to stay out of the public eye as much as possible."

"Why's that?" she asked. Diz's expression darkened. "At the moment, there's no telling where Xehanort and my other traitorous apprentices have gone. It would be a disaster if I were to encounter them. Until I find out what their plans are, I cannot risk being seen." Myra slowly nodded in understanding. "So, what should we do?" Diz cast his gaze to the east. "The train whistle came from that way, so it wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume civilization is also in that direction-" he turned his head the other way, "-however, I've yet to hear anything from the other side of this forest. Perhaps we should explore in that direction first."

"But-" Myra interrupted, "-if there's a town _this_ way, wouldn't it be safe to assume there's just more forest _that_ way? We don't know anything about this world, or what could be out there…" Diz regarded her levelly. "Those are valid points. Not to mention, now that we are back in the realm of light, our bodies are no longer impervious to hunger and exhaustion. We'll no doubt be feeling those effects soon…" he held his chin contemplatively, "…what we need is to find a base of some sort. Somewhere away from the public eye, that is equipped for both of us to stay in for the time being."

After thinking for a few moments more, Diz gave a sigh of frustration. "Let's travel in that direction for just a bit, to see what we find. If we must, we'll go into town and look for somewhere else to stay. Are you alright with that?" Myra nodded in reply, reaching down to grab her bag before they set off.

She had doubted they would be lucky enough to find a place that matched all the descriptors Diz gave, but _apparently,_ whatever deity/magic/great force that dropped her here decided to throw them a bone, (or just spite her for doubting) because barely a few minutes into their walk, they came upon a _literal mansion._

The mansion was tucked into the trees, which had become somewhat overgrown around the property. It was a beautiful house, resembling a cross between a church and a castle with its steeples and tower-like structures. Myra could even see a stained-glass window near the top of the mansion, adding to its church-like similitude. The mansion was surrounded by a tall brick wall accented by black spires, making it nearly impossible to scale. However, there was a black iron gate which lead into the front yard, which had vines of ivy growing over it.

Myra and Diz both stood at the gate, taking in the mansion with matching expressions of thoughtfulness and mild awe. "I guess going in this direction wasn't such a bad idea after all…" Myra admitted. Instead of replying, Diz approached the gate and started tearing at the vines. "Um, should you be-" the blonde started, but was interrupted when the scientist abruptly forced the gate open. She stepped back in astonishment as Diz strolled into the front yard like he owned the place. "Hey-!" Myra exclaimed, scrambling to follow.

The path leading up to the front door was lined with broken statues and stone pillars that may have been columns at one point. "Isn't this trespassing?" Myra asked tersely, looking back to ensure no one was watching them, even though they'd yet to encounter anybody here. "Not if this place isn't owned by anyone," Diz answered, waltzing up to the front door.

Myra looked up for a fleeting moment to notice the overhang, which had the same clocktower from before carved into it.

The wooden door gave an unsettling _CREEEAAAK_ as Diz pushed it open, giving her a jolt.

Myra felt uncomfortable walking into this strange house uninvited, but the scientists' unwavering confidence coerced her to follow him inside.

A strong, musty scent hit her nose almost immediately upon entering, and she reflexively covered her mouth. "As I thought. It's abandoned," Diz observed as they surveyed the foyer.

From the get-go, it was obvious that no one had so much as stepped foot in this mansion for quite a long time. Most of the furniture was covered with white sheets, the chandelier above their heads had cobwebs hanging from it, and the floor was so coated with dust that their footprints were visible.

"It could be owned by the town itself," Myra suggested. "Unlikely," Diz retorted. "If it were owned by the town, it should have seen at least a little upkeep over the years it's undoubtedly been sitting here unattended." The scientist meandered about the foyer curiously, running a hand along the banister of one of the two flights of stairs that sat at each end of the room. Myra followed suit, wrinkling her nose when she spotted two pegasus statues flanking the sides of a glass door that seemed to lead into a courtyard.

Whoever previously owned this mansion certainly had… _interesting_ tastes.

"This place isn't in the best shape," Diz spoke up, "but it fits our preferred criteria. I think we should take up residency here for the time being." Myra raised a disbelieving brow. "Are you sure? How do we know someone won't suddenly show up here wanting to remodel, or something?" A bit of a weak excuse, she admitted, but she couldn't help but feel skeptical of this place. Finding an abandoned mansion in the middle of a dense forest right when they were in need of shelter just seemed too good to be true.

"With how long I estimate it's sat here untouched, I doubt we'll have to worry about that. The townsfolk may have very well forgotten about it, or never knew it was here in the first place," Diz assured coolly. "I guess…" Myra consented tentatively.

Just then, a low groan echoed throughout the room, making her shoulders jump in surprise. She looked around wildly for the source of the sound before her eyes settled on Diz, who had paused with his back to her.

As a worker in a restaurant and older sister of a teenage boy, Myra knew this sound quite well, and she blinked owlishly as the pieces fell into place.

"Diz, was…was that you?" The scientist slowly turned around, one hand on his stomach. The look in his eyes was comically stunned, as if he hadn't known his body was capable of producing such a sound. "Ah…pardon me. It has been quite a long time since I've eaten anything."

Well, he had a point there. After all, they hadn't eaten once in the realm of darkness.

With that thought in mind, Myra suddenly realized that she was absolutely _starving._

 _"How long has it technically been since I've eaten, anyway?"_ she thought, which brought up a bigger question: exactly how much time had passed since she was dumped into this universe?

Curious, Myra reached around to unzip the front pocket of her bag and pulled out her phone. As she waited for it to power up, her hands began to shake just slightly, as if she was afraid to find out.

It couldn't be _that_ bad though, could it? Sure, it had taken them awhile to reach the Dark Margin, but the journey hadn't felt like it took much more than a week or so-

Her phone read June 10th.

Myra blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Her brain screeched to temporary halt as it attempted to process the date that her phone was showing her, because it just _couldn't be right!_

"A month…!?" Myra whispered.

She had been stuck here for an entire month!?

A month in darkness?

A month without food?

A month without sleep?

A month without so much as going to the bathroom, bathing, or functioning like a normal human!?

Diz had told her that it was difficult to feel the passage of time in the realm of darkness, but Myra hadn't been prepared for just how much time would get away from her. Never in her wildest dreams (which was saying a lot for her) would she had ever imagined that she would virtually miss an entire month of her life.

…While being awake, anyway.

"Marya?" Diz's voice snapped her to attention. The scientist was watching her with mild concern. "Is something the matter?" Still reeling from her revelation, Myra stuffed her phone in her back pocket as she answered. "Yeah, we both need to find food before we starve to death." Diz nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I doubt we'll find anything edible here, but I suppose I can look anyway. Since we have money, we could just buy food, if need be."

Maybe it was her ingrained habit of doing all the grocery shopping for her household (Jung Soo tended to buy the wrong brands or wrong items and Estelle always bought things they didn't need) that prompted Myra to speak up before she could even think when she said, "I can do that."

Diz regarded her with mild surprise. "Truly? You're certain you'll be alright on your own?" Knowing it was too late to take it back now, Myra shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. I'm the one with the money, and you said it'd be best if you didn't go out in public, anyway. I can probably handle a grocery run," she insisted, trying to convince both herself and him at the same time.

Truthfully, Myra wanted a chance to prove herself in some small way. Since being swallowed up by this dimension, she'd been following Diz around like a lost puppy, doing nothing but occasionally whack strange shadow creatures with a giant key.

Myra was unused to needing to rely so much on another person just to survive, and it made her feel somewhat incompetent.

Food, however, _that_ was her territory, something she was familiar with, something she knew how to handle. If she could at least manage to buy ingredients and cook a decent meal, Myra would finally feel like she had a fighting chance in this universe.

"Very well," Diz allowed with a nod. "Have a safe trip, then. And if anything seems strange, don't hesitate to hurry back."

"Yeah, I will," Myra assured. She slowly began to exit the mansion, stopping at the door to cast one last glance at the scientist.

After a month of constantly being in the man's presence, it felt unnatural to leave him.

 _"Suck it up,"_ Myra told herself. _"You are a goddamned adult, and you can handle going out by yourself!"_

Taking a quiet, steadying breath, the blonde finally made her way out of the house. To distract herself, she instead started pondering what kind of meal she might like to make, if she could find the right ingredients.

The night before her arrival to this universe passed through her mind, and Myra swallowed down the lump in her throat as the decision came to her quicker than she would've liked.

"…Eggplant calzones," she mumbled to herself, "I want to make eggplant calzones."

* * *

_Dream Log 13. November 16, 2010._

_After some digging, I finally found some websites that talk about crow superstitions. I got a bunch of mixed results, but I did find a list of what crows mean depending on their number, which means from now on, I need to try and pay attention to how many crows I dream about. I'll write it down here so I don't have to keep going back to that website._

_One crow stands for bad luck and death._

_Two crows stand for good luck and joy._

_Three crows stand for a wedding, or the birth of a girl._

_Four crows stand for the birth of a boy._

_Five crows stand for good business._

_Six crows stand for a major change in money._

_Seven crows stand for a mystery, secret, or a curse._

_Eight crows stand for a live-altering experience._

_Nine crows stand for love._

_Ten crows stand for a change in luck._

_Eleven crows stand for a surprise, or a revealed secret_

_Twelve crows stand for completion and fulfillment._

_Thirteen crows stand for the end of a situation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, every time I start a chapter I think, "Oh, this one will be shorter than the others. Maybe only ten or fifteen pages, after all, I don't have too much planned." Then I start writing, and twenty-five pages later, I'm like, "...What have I done?"
> 
> All the information about crows in this chapter can be found here: https://witchipedia.com/divination/counting-crows/ 
> 
> Feel free to browse if you want, it's pretty interesting (well, to me anyway, even if I don't actually believe in any of it). There are different interpretations about the symbolism of crows depending on which rhyme and source you look at, but I'll be going in accordance with everything listed on this website for this story. Oh yes, by the end, you shall ALL be experts on crow symbolism! Bask in the utterly useless information! BASK IN IT! MUAHAHAHA!
> 
> Reviews & Constructive Criticism are always appreciated. :)


	4. Honey and Crepes

_Ansem's Journal, Entry 91_

_A week has passed since our discovery of Twilight Town and the abandoned mansion at the edge of the woods. Marya has taken all the household management tasks upon herself. I find myself both relieved and concerned at this development. On one hand, this allows me all the time I need for my research…on the other, I fear she has fallen into a pattern of regularity too easily despite her circumstances. Truly, she's shown remarkable adjustment to her situation as far as the outside eye is concerned. Then again, I suppose it would be presumptuous to assume she would share any such thoughts and feelings, considering we're currently no more than acquaintances. For how long that will last, I cannot say. Marya claims to have no memory of me, but there have been several instances I've caught her staring at me inquisitively…as if she recognizes me, but cannot place how or why. Many times, I've strongly considered telling her, but the timing never seems right. Marya is no fool…it's only a matter of time before she figures it out on her own. And judging by the looks she sometimes sends my way, I'd not be surprised if she already suspects something. Perhaps, the time to stop pretending is nigh…_

* * *

Settling into Twilight Town was no arduous task.

Of course, having a mansion and a generous amount of money at their disposal certainly didn't hurt.

Myra's initial impression of the place upon first exploration was that it was quite small, especially compared to the towns on earth. Its core probably wasn't even the size of Disney Land. Overall, the world consisted of two regions _,_ which were traveled between by train, and apparently had a beach somewhere that could also be reached via the railroads. Aside from the actual town areas, the rest of the world seemed to be nothing but forests and farmland.

When stumbling upon the town's only public library and raiding its archives, Myra discovered that Twilight Town housed a mere 800 residents including those that lived on the outskirts, and didn't have much in the way of profound or impactful history. Myra was mystified that such a tiny place classified as a "world" in this universe, but Diz assured her that it was quite normal. Just like the solar system of their universe, this one also contained worlds of all shapes and sizes.

Though it was small, Myra by no means hated the place; on the contrary, Twilight Town was hands down the most tranquil environment she had ever stayed in. The town was peaceful and quiet, had a sleepy sort of charm, and most of its residents were friendly to a fault. Though she found it a bit jarring that the sun never fully rose, (offering no aid in the restoration of her internal clock) Myra found that she rather liked the little town.

Diz didn't get a chance to share the sentiment, for he'd holed himself up in the mansion's library immediately after they decided to stay there.

The scientist was determined to conduct research regarding his apprentices' motivations and whereabouts, as well as what had happened to Radiant Garden and any other worlds to have come under the darkness' influence. In order to do that however, he needed access to his files and equipment from his lab in Radiant Garden:

 _"When I first began suspecting Xehanort's treachery, I took the liberty of enchanting a few certain rooms of my laboratory with a spell that my old friend taught me,"_ Diz had informed her.

 _"Wait, so…you can use MAGIC?"_ was Myra's incredulous response. _"In a…sense. This spell is the only one that I can use. Magic isn't particularly difficult to learn, but it is difficult to put into practice."_

_"Uh, yeah…okay. Well, how does this spell help us?"_

_"In theory, it should allow me to connect the enchanted rooms from my laboratory to this place. I won't have access to all my previous research, but I'll at least be able to use my secondary computer and some of my equipment, which is far better than nothing. I'll need to recreate the runes here in order to activate the spell."_

_"How long will that take?"_

_"It's hard to say…I don't completely remember them, so I'll have to conduct some research and experiment a bit before I get them right. I will do what I must…for both our sakes."_

Since then, Diz had spent most of his time in the library pouring through numerous old books, some from the mansion's collection, and others that Myra brought him from the public library. With the scientist fully occupied with his research, she was left to her own devices; in other words, she was given absolutely nothing to do.

So, Myra gave herself something do to…and that list started out with cleaning the mansion.

Not the entire mansion of course, that would take nothing short of months to accomplish on her own. Seriously, the whole place was like a historical marvel that would be shown on ' _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous'_ back in her world.

After a thorough exploration, she discovered the mansion held ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms, three offices, a kitchen, a dining room, a parlor, a library, a foyer, a courtyard, a billiards room, a cellar, an attic, and two other rooms that she couldn't begin to guess the purpose of.

So, Myra set to work cleaning only the places they would be using the most. This included the bedrooms she and Diz had chosen (or rather that she chose for him) and their two nearest bathrooms, the kitchen, the foyer, and the parlor. Eventually, Myra also managed to shoo Diz from the library long enough so she could dust the place, as she'd been listening to him cough and sneeze in there for a week.

In the midst of her cleaning spree, Myra received the second largest shock of her life.

She'd been cleaning the vanity's mirror in one of the bathrooms, when she naturally caught sight of her reflection, which caused her to freeze and stare.

And stare.

And blink.

And stare.

The blonde slowly leaned in towards the mirror until her nose almost touched the glass. Finally, the cloth fell from her hand at the same time her lips parted in disbelief.

Staring back at her from the mirror was a pair of eyes that were not green like they should have been, but _purple._

Two foreign orbs of dark amethyst, wide with awe and astonishment, mirroring the expression that Myra wore. No matter how many times she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked away, her eyes remained unchanged.

The blonde stumbled backwards in shock, arms hanging numbly at her sides as she hurried out of the bathroom calling Diz's name.

The scientist had eyed her with a mixture of concern and confusion as she explained her discovery, gesturing shakily to her eyes. "You are saying your eyes have not…always been that color?" Diz asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "No, that's what I just said!" Myra replied with exasperation. "Green, they're supposed to be green! That's the color they've been for the past eighteen years! Come on Diz, you're a scientist, you should know better than anyone that eyes can't be purple!"

"Not on earth, no," Diz agreed calmly, "however, you'll find that is not the case here." Myra gave a frustrated groan, raking her fingers through her hair. "Alright, fine, fair enough. But that doesn't explain why my eyes have suddenly changed!" The scientist rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. "It could be due to your body's exposure to this universe. My own eyes gradually lightened as well the longer I stayed here. They used to look like my – my father's…" Diz finished quietly with a perplexed expression, as if he was surprised by what had just come out of his own mouth.

"Of course," he continued awkwardly after clearing his throat, "we should also consider the possibility of the darkness' influence. Now that you've used it, there's no telling what sort of strange effects it could have on you." Myra shuddered. "Great, that makes me feel loads better…" Diz's eyes softened. "I'd advise you not to worry about it too much. Surely, purple eyes aren't that bad of a side effect, yes?" The blonde let out a long sigh. "Well, no, I guess not…it's just kind of jarring, is all."

"Understandable. Why don't you keep tabs on your well-being, and if anything else strange or concerning comes up, be sure to let me know." Diz replied reassuringly. "I will," Myra muttered with a nod.

Despite the scientist's reassurances, she unconsciously avoided looking directly into any mirrors for two days afterwards.

Thankfully, her strenuous self-appointed tasks were quick to take her mind off this development.

Despite being who-knows-how-old, the mansion's facilities were still functioning just fine, so they had electricity and running water. Unfortunately, there were still a couple hiccups: the mansion's old-fashioned outlets didn't support any of her chargers, which meant Myra had to be careful with her electronics, as her portable chargers only had so much juice.

 _That_ she could deal with…the biggest disappointment was that the mansion wasn't equipped with a washing machine. Instead, she'd found a large basin and a washboard next to a creek out back, which meant that she'd have to do any laundry by hand, like a fucking pilgrim or something.

Myra supposed that whoever previously lived here likely had maids to do such basic chores, and probably never thought about upgrading.

Must've been well and good for _them._

At least the kitchen was pretty well equipped. Though many of its amenities would be considered ancient by earth's modern standards, the stove, oven, and refrigerator were all operated by either gas or electricity, so they weren't particularly difficult to figure out. However, the kitchen was rather lacking in decent cooking tools for Myra's standards. So, she shortly embarked on one of multiple shopping trips to make the mansion more livable.

Despite its lackluster size, Twilight Town's shops left little to be desired, particularly when it came to food. The open-air market sold surprisingly high-quality produce harvested from the farmlands, as well as fish caught from the world's only ocean.

Certain things were a bit harder to come by, such as red meats and out-of-season fruits, but upon discovering how much they went for, Myra quickly decided she could do without them. Thankfully, the town's currency hadn't been too difficult to figure out, so she was able to prevent herself from being swindled.

Twilight Town's munny – yeah, that was its _actual_ name, spelling and all – was similar to the Japanese yen; and though it had been a few years since Myra's visit to the Land of the Rising Sun, she remembered enough to decently convert her money from earth to what had recently shown up in her wallet.

She'd been given 540,000 munny, a rough equivalent of 5,000 dollars from the US. At first, Myra had been terribly confused, as she most certainly had not had that much cash in her wallet when she left home. Then, it hit her: as it turned out, this world had taken the liberty of converting _all_ the money she had access to, including what had been on her credit and debit cards.

After a brief calculation of what had been in her checking and savings accounts, physical cash, and the remaining balance on her credit card, Myra's theory was proven correct, as the resulting number matched her conversion.

Though a rather sizable part of her was still bitter about this whole situation, at least she hadn't been dumped here with nothing. Plus, this meant she got to use the money from her credit card without having to pay it back, so that was pretty sweet.

Aside from more food and ingredients than was probably needed for just the two of them, Myra spent a good chunk of her given funds on various cookware, cleaning supplies, basic necessities for Diz, bedsheets, blankets, and anything else required for basic everyday living that the mansion either didn't already have, or was too old to use.

Though Diz assured her multiple times that she was under no obligation to do everything herself, Myra continued to brush him off.

Most of her life she had spent being busy – school, work, violin, piano, volleyball, family – she'd always had a myriad of activities to occupy her time with. The idea of sitting around with nothing to do for who-knows-how-long gave her an ulcer.

If Myra didn't find something to do, she wouldn't have any distractions, then she would start thinking about how she might never see her family again, would never continue her education, never belong in her new environment, be virtually alone for the rest of her-

Well, anyway.

It took nearly two weeks to buy everything Myra felt they needed, which allowed her to become somewhat familiar with the town; an endeavor that was met with assistance from three certain residents.

Myra had been unhurriedly making her way back to the mansion after one of her many shopping trips, a bag hanging from each hand as she passed through an area locally known as the sandlot. She tried not to groan aloud at the earthy scent of dirt and sand that filled the lot, a task that proved harder than it should have been.

Her irritability had been unusually high, from both the constant back and forth between town and the mansion and the unusually warm weather that day. Not to mention the growing abdominal cramps that signaled an incoming period, something she wasn't looking forward to even a bit. Myra had hoped her cycle would be thrown off a little from being trapped in a timeless place for a month, but _apparently_ , that had been too much to wish for.

A group of teenagers were already there, a fact that normally would have made Myra pick up her pace, but this time, she paused.

One of the guys, an older teen by the looks of him, was holding up a younger boy by the collar. The two flanking him were one girl around the same age, and another, rather built guy who looked twice as old. Facing the trio were two others that looked to be the younger boy's age, both of whom were glaring at the guy carrying him.

"Let him go, Seifer!" the younger girl demanded. "Yeah! You lost fair and square! Don't take it out on Hayner!" the heavyset boy added. The older teen, who Myra assumed was Seifer, ignored their pleas as Hayner flailed in his grasp. "Fair? Were you losers even watching the same fight? He tripped me!"

"Yeah! That's against the rules, y'know?" the oldest looking of the group proclaimed.

"Cheater," the girl deadpanned.

"I did not! At least, not on purpose – YOW! Watch it!" the boy she figured was Hayner yelled.

"Don't give me your half-assed excuses. The point is, you ruined the fight, and now you owe me a rematch!" Seifer declared.

Myra hovered by the edge of the lot indecisively. _"Should I…do something?"_

This seemed to be a case of schoolyard bullying, and the thought that Estelle would disown her if she walked away without intervening immediately came up – followed by a wave of heartsickness upon remembering that she wasn't…available.

Shoving that down…

However, Myra soon noticed that she was not the only adult in the area. A few others passed through, all of which either ignored the scene, or gave it a passing glance before rolling their eyes, shaking their heads, and going on their way. The way they acted gave the impression that they'd seen this before, perhaps regularly.

Turning her attention back to the group, she found that Seifer had dropped Hayner on his bum, and she watched the sprightful boy spring up and fix the older teen with a glare. "You want a rematch, Seifer!? Fine! I'll gladly beat you again!"

"You can certainly try, loser," Seifer sneered, holding up a strange blue object. "Here, Hayner," said the younger girl, handing her friend the same object, which Myra now realized was some kind of large foam sword. She faintly recognized it from several advertisements posted around town. Supposedly, they were used for some kind of popular game or sport that many enjoyed either spectating or participating in. Myra thought it to be sort of silly when first introduced to the concept, but the town apparently took it quite seriously. They even had trophies for it and held annual matches.

As Seifer and Hayner began their rematch, Myra allowed herself to relax. Perhaps she misinterpreted the situation, and this was just a case of intense rivalry. Besides, Hayner wasn't alone, and he and his friends seemed more annoyed with Seifer than afraid of him.

 _"Thank Christ…I REALLY did not want to deal with teenagers today,"_ Myra thought with a sigh.

Declaring that teenagers were the bane of her existence wouldn't be an exaggeration in the slightest. She couldn't stand them.

"Gah!" Hayner yelped as he was knocked to the ground, a sight that made Myra marginally flinch. "Ha! See? Told you losers that time was a fluke!" Seifer boasted, gesturing at the three younger teens with his foam…sword…thing.

What the hell were those even called? Were they supposed to be this world's version of Nerf toys or something?

"I mean, look at this pathetic thing! Did you honestly think you could beat me with such an old Struggle bat?" the older teen continued, picking up Hayner's weapon.

…Oh. So that's what they're called.

"Hey! Give that back!" Hayner demanded, lunging for his Struggle bat. Seifer held it out of his reach, laughing mockingly.

Myra's looked upon the scene with revulsion. _"Yeah. I really hate teenagers."_

Finally, she tore her gaze from the immature display and started back on her way. However, she only accomplished a few steps, when –

"You want it that bad? Then go get it!"

– Seifer whipped around and threw the Struggle bat directly as her.

"Seifer, no!" cried Olette, speaking a second too late as she realized where Seifer had unintentionally aimed his throw. She and Pence cringed expectantly, certain that the unsuspecting woman would be hit head-on – when, without even looking in the direction of the offending item, the woman's hand shot up and caught the bat in the nick of time.

…And as a result, dropped one of her bags, causing groceries to spill out all over the street.

There was a beat of silence as everyone present stared in equal parts dismay and mild awe.

Meanwhile, Myra's brain was on an overload sequence as it processed what had just happened, in which she became aware of three things:

One, her unnatural reflexes had obviously kicked in, a revelation that troubled her, as she previously thought only fighting with Nevermore brought them out.

Two, her goddamn groceries were now decorations on the pavement.

And three, her hatred of teenagers had now tripled.

"Oh, we're so sorry, miss! Are you okay?" the girl in orange exclaimed worriedly.

 _"Take a deep breath, Myra…take a loooong breath…"_ thought the blonde, her eye twitching rapidly.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" Myra grunted, dropping the stupid bat as she bent down to pick up her groceries. The girl and her heavyset friend rushed up to help, much to Myra's surprise.

"We really are sorry about that. Seifer can be kind of a meathead sometimes," the boy said with an easy grin.

"Hey! I heard that, stupid!" said teen barked.

Once Myra's groceries had been recovered, the girl stood, spun around with her hands on her hips, and fixed Seifer with a harsh glare. "Seifer! Apologize right now!" she demanded.

Myra blinked, taken aback by the girl's adamant defense of her. She'd expected them to throw a hurried apology at her before running off, not wanting to get themselves in anymore trouble.

Seifer scoffed aloud. "Why should I apologize? It's not like I knew she was there! She should have just gotten out of the wa-"

Faster than they could blink, Myra had shot up and approached the teen in a few large strides until they were only a few inches apart. Seifer's words died on his lips as he blinked and stumbled away awkwardly.

"I'm _sorry,"_ Myra began, a large, false smile stretched across her lips, "I must have misunderstood you. I'm _sure_ you weren't about to suggest that _I,_ a completely innocent bystander, am somehow the one at fault here, and not _the_ _punk who threw a bat at me."_

Seifer bristled at her words, while the heavyset boy let out a low whistle. "She's got ya there, Seifer…"

"Shut up, Pence!" he hissed, eliciting not-so-subtle chuckles from the three younger teens. "Lay off 'a Seifer, lady! It was just an accident, y'know?" the oldest-looking guy proclaimed. Myra barely jerked her head in his direction, giving him the infamous side-eye of disapproval, compliments of Estelle.

Perhaps the guy was familiar with the look himself, as he withered beneath her glance.

"I'm fully aware it was an accident. That's not the part I'm concerned about," Myra replied levelly, turning her gaze back to the offending teen, "it's his attitude I have a problem with. He seems to think he's above owning up to his mistakes, if he's letting younger kids clean up after him."

"Dude, she sounds like my mom…" whispered the large guy to the stoic girl beside him. She'd said nothing during the ordeal so far, opting instead to glare silently at the blonde. Myra couldn't stop herself from doing a double-take upon realizing her eyes were red.

"Hey, I'd watch what you say to me, lady! You're talking to the leader of the Twilight Town disciplinary committee!" Seifer growled, drawing himself up to match her height. At his words, Myra raised a skeptical brow. "…Disciplinary committee?"

"Y-Yeah! Seifer's kind of a big deal around here, y'know?" said the large guy.

"Legend," added his female companion.

Myra rubbed her temples, unable to believe the stupidly childish situation she'd been caught up in. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm new in town, so I haven't heard of it," she drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm, "but do they really put kids like you in charge of that kind of thing here?"

"I'm not a kid!" Seifer squawked, cheeks growing red with outrage. "Oh, believe me honey, where I come from, you are," Myra replied without missing a beat.

_"…did I just call him 'honey?' Damn, I'm turning into Arista…"_

"Well I got news for you lady, you're in my town now! And as leader of the disciplinary committee, I demand respect!" Seifer proclaimed, eyes shooting daggers at her. Myra had a feeling he was trying to come off as 'big, bad alpha wolf,' but all she saw was a snarling little puppy.

"Fine, you have a point," she conceded, raising her hands placatingly, "maybe they do put minors in charge of that here, for whatever reason. If that's the case, do you have a badge to prove it? A license to show me, maybe?" An abashed look crossed the teen's face, but he was quick to hide it. "W-Whatever! I don't need anything like that to prove myself! My actions speak loud enough!"

Myra looked unconvinced. "Okay dude, let's say I believe you for a second. If you really are the face of this 'disciplinary committee,'" she enunciated those words with air quotes, ignoring how Seifer seethed at the action, "then shouldn't you be the pinnacle of ideal behavior around here? I don't think letting a bunch of younger kids apologize for _your_ mistake sets a very good example in that regard, do you?"

Hayner and Pence let out a chorus of "ooooohs," laughing boyishly at Seifer's expense. The "head of the disciplinary committee" stiffened, having the decency to look admonished.

"Look kid, that head honcho schtick may work with the junior classes, but not with me," Myra stated, crossing her arms authoritatively. "So if you want to make me actually see you as something other than a kid, I suggest you stop using those childish excuses, man up, and apologize. Otherwise, you and the other two Caballeros are free to screw off."

"Caba-what-a's?" murmured the large guy.

Seifer gaped at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish's as if he couldn't decide how to reply. "Whoa, Seifer doesn't have a comeback! That's a first!" Hayner not-so-subtly whispered to his friends. "Shut it, loser," the teen grumbled, averting his eyes from hers.

Myra tilted her head, waiting to see what he would do. After a tense moment, Seifer huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Fine, you win. Sorry I chucked a Struggle bat at you," he reluctantly conceded. Electing to ignore the fact his apology came with an eyeroll, Myra allowed her lips to quirk into a little smile.

"Atta boy. Keep that up, and I may actually respect you one day," she praised, patting the teen's shoulder. "Pfft, whatever!" Seifer bit out, shrugging her off of him. "I don't need your respect!"

 _"Even though you literally just demanded it of me not two minutes ago?"_ Myra thought, but elected not to voice aloud.

Seifer spun on his heel, propping his Struggle bat on his shoulder with a scowl. "C'mon! We're done here!" the teen barked, drawing his companions to his side. As the trio made their exit, Seifer suddenly turned and pointed dramatically at Myra. "I won't forget this!" he declared with all the corniness of a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

Poor thing probably thought he looked cool or something.

Myra gave an exasperated sigh, hoping she hadn't just mixed herself up in something she didn't want to be a part of.

_"Damn me and my stupid pride…"_

"Whoa! That was awesome!" exclaimed Hayner, suddenly appearing in her vision. Myra blinked.

Oh, right. These guys were still here.

"Man, I've never seen anyone shut Seifer up like that! You actually got him to _apologize_ to you! You gotta teach me how to do that!" the boy continued, fists clenched in excitement.

She gave a blank stare. "Um…"

"I hope you don't think too badly of him," said Pence, sparing her from replying, "Seifer isn't really all that bad. A lot of that macho-ness is just for show." Myra tilted her head curiously, surprised that the boy was actually defending someone like Seifer.

"What the heck, Pence!? Whose side are you on!?" demanded Hayner, apparently sharing the sentiment. "Calm down, Hayner. You know the only reason Seifer even picks on you so much is because you respond to him like that," the girl chimed in, crossing her arms and giving her friend a pointed look, which he withered under.

"W-Well, he shouldn't go parading around like he's better than us all the time…" Hayner grumbled. Huffing at her friend's behavior, the girl turned back towards Myra with an apologetic smile. "Sorry again for dragging you into our problem, though. Oh, and thanks for defending us! That was really nice of you!"

Shrugging off her thanks, the blonde changed the subject. "Does he do stuff like that to you kids pretty often?"

"Wow, you really aren't from around here, are you?" Hayner teased, earning an elbowing from his female companion. "Don't be rude, Hayner!" she chastised.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Myra said dryly.

"It's really not as bad as it may look to outsiders, though," Pence interjected, "Seifer's all bark and no bite."

At his friend's words, Hayner gestured wildly to the bruise forming on his shoulder.

"…except for in Hayner's case," Pence added, causing both he and the girl to giggle at their friend's expense. "Oh sure, laugh it up!" Hayner bit out, rubbing his injured arm.

"And his behavior has never bothered anyone before now?" Myra asked with an arched brow.

The teens exchanged glances. "Eh, some of the adults tried to intervene a bit back when it first started happening. But I think they got tired of dealing with it, and just kinda leave us to handle it now," Pence explained with an unconcerned shrug.

"Psh, not that they were ever much help in the first place. Most of them just told us to _'all get along like good kiddies should!'"_ Hayner said in a mocking tone. He then turned back to Myra with an excited smirk. "But you didn't do that! You tore into him good! Aw man, I wish I had a recording of it!"

"Hayner…" the girl said warningly.

Myra averted her eyes, looking slightly abashed. "Ah, well-" she shrugged, "-I guess. Texans aren't known for taking crap lying down, after all."

Bemused expressions crossed the trio's faces. "Texans?" the girl repeated.

Myra froze, mentally cursing her slip of the tongue.

She hadn't had much interaction with anyone besides Diz, and he was aware of her situation. These were normal people – people that likely weren't aware of the many worlds outside their own.

"It's…where I'm from," Myra answered steadily.

That should do. This way, she didn't have to lie, but she also wouldn't divulge too much of the truth. According to Diz, though many individuals of this universe weren't aware of outside worlds, they tended to be open-minded towards the concept, so these kids likely wouldn't freak out at the idea of her being from a place they'd never heard of.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

"Never heard of it," said Hayner. "I doubt anyone around here has, it's pretty…far," Myra tentatively answered, ignoring the pang in her chest. "Not surprising. We are a pretty small town," Pence agreed with a shrug.

 _"Crisis averted,"_ thought Myra with invisible relief.

"We don't get visitors very often. What brings you around here, if it's okay to ask?" queried the girl.

_"Shit…"_

The exact question she'd been trying to avoid.

For a moment, Myra felt held captive by the three pairs of large, curious eyes, her brain scrambling for a response. "You could say there were some… _unique_ circumstances out of my control that led to my being here."

While she cursed her lackluster response, the teens eyed her with various degrees of confusion. "What's that mean?" Hayner prodded, only to be shushed by his female companion. "It's alright, you don't have to tell us. Sorry for prying!" the girl apologized. "No, you're fine," Myra assured with a small smile.

"So, how long have you been in town?" asked Pence, mercifully changing the subject. "Oh, uh, a couple weeks, I think? It's kind of hard to keep track of time here. Does the sun ever completely rise?" The teens chuckled at her question. "Well, it is called 'Twilight Town' for a reason!" Hayner teased, gesturing to the orange sky. "You sort of get used to it when you've lived here your whole life. I guess it would be pretty weird to outsiders, though," Pence admitted.

"Oh!" the girl suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands as if an idea had struck her. "If you're not busy, maybe we could show you around? It could help you get used to things around here!"

Myra could only blink owlishly at the unexpected offer. "You don't have to do that," was her default reply.

"I wouldn't mind. We do have the rest of the afternoon to kill now, after all," Pence chimed in. "Eh, why not? Beats doing homework. Besides, we do kind of owe you one," Hayner agreed with an easy shrug. Myra eyed the trio bemusedly, and for perhaps the first time in her life, she found herself in awe of teens for positive reasons.

Great, now she didn't think she could refuse without feeling like a piece of garbage, especially when they were offering so willingly.

Well…it certainly wouldn't hurt to get more familiar with the town, especially since it seemed like they'd be staying here indefinitely.

"I guess, if ya'll are really okay with that…" Myra conceded.

The answering smiles she received made her grin as well.

After officially introducing themselves to one another, the hodgepodge of a group went on their way. Being led around by a bunch of teenagers was the last way Myra would have pictured herself spending an afternoon – much less _not_ hating every second of it.

Hayner, Pence, and Olette, while not the most professional tour guides, seemed to know every inch of their town, and shared it with charming enthusiasm. They took her all around the main region, telling anything and everything that came to mind that they thought she may want to know. By the time evening had rolled around, Myra had been introduced to half the town's store owners, learned why there was a hole in the wall of one of the alleyways, pet the stray cats that hung out behind the barber shop, and told multiple times how good the ice cream was at Mrs. Anita's convenience store.

Myra had learned early on that Twilight Town's technology was years behind what she was used to; as someone who'd grown up in the age of touch screens and high-speed internet, it didn't take long to notice the absence of phones in people's hands. The blonde saw further evidence of this in the teenage trio, whose wide-eyed innocence was something she rarely saw in the youth back home.

Teens on earth were cynical and callous, desensitized from the access to information and entertainment that provoked such behavior.

These three had no such influence, and thus possessed an air of purity that was almost endearing.

Myra ended up parting ways with the trio feeling lighter than she had for a while.

Maybe teenagers weren't _that_ bad.

After ducking into one of the alleys, the blonde shifted her groceries (ow, fingers are seriously aching from carrying them for so long) to one hand. Holding her breath and raising her free hand aloft, Myra reached for the ever-growingly familiar presence in her chest. Once she'd grasped it, she began counting:

_One,_

_Two,_

_Thr-_

_Whoosh_

She opened her eyes, and was greeted with the swirling entrance to a dark corridor. _"Barely took three seconds that time. It's getting easier,"_ the blonde thought as she stepped through.

Diz had strongly advised her to exercise caution regarding the corridors, as they still didn't know how repeatedly using them might affect her in the long run. However, curiosity mixed with the persistent buzzing presence beneath her ribs coerced her to reach for the darkness again.

Ironically, Myra quickly found that opening the corridors was easier than summoning the keyblade. Opening a portal was like flexing a limb that had fallen asleep – it may not respond accordingly at first, but after a moment of recovery, it was a simple task.

Summoning Nevermore was like trying to flex the same limb under the effects of sleep paralysis. You could feel it there, but getting it to respond was decidingly more laborious.

Going through the corridors was a far less stomach-turning experience when traveling short distances, as Myra had been. Rather than walk through a long, pulsing tube of darkness, getting through to the other side took all of two steps, a quick and easy in-and-out.

She tried not to use them too terribly often, still healthily wary of the darkness, but she had to admit that having the ability to teleport was pretty damn sweet.

…Especially when you've been carrying groceries for several hours and your fingers feel like they're about to fall off.

With a heavy sigh, Myra allowed the corridor to vanish behind her and ambled toward the mansion.

_Caw! Caw!_

The grass crunched beneath her shoes as she froze.

_"Don't do it."_

Her eye twitched.

_"Don't you do it."_

_Caw! Caw! Caw!_

_"Don't you freaking do it!"_

She turned around.

_"Damn me, I suck!"_

A swarm of crows had gathered amongst the trees, all of which seemed to be staring in her general direction.

_One, two, three, four-_

_"Why are you COUNTING them!?"_

_…eleven._

Though Myra still had trouble remembering the symbolization of crow numbers past seven, she was pretty sure eleven had something to do with secrets.

 _"Great. Just what I need. More mysteries in my life,"_ Myra thought disgruntledly.

Spinning on her heel, the blonde marched toward the mansion, ignoring both the flock of crows behind her and the sting of foreboding pricking the back of her mind.

Her life was already screwed up beyond all recognition…she didn't need some sudden revelation to stroll in and make things worse.

Little did she know, a chain of events had been set off by her arrival – events that would lead to many such revelations, regardless of how hard she tried to stop them.

And the first would arrive much sooner than she could have ever anticipated.

**...**

And arrive it did.

It was early the next morning, the soft, golden rays of this world's sun bathing the mansion's kitchen. Myra stood silently at the stove, holding the handle of a skillet and staring blankly into an undone crepe. Her body was as stiff as a statue's, breaking its stillness only to flip the pastry.

A shuffling of familiar footsteps made her shoulders scarcely jump.

Myra didn't turn to greet Diz, nor did he attempt to do the same. The scientist merely sat at the dining table with a book in hand, waiting for her to finish.

It was a Sunday, which meant the two would be eating together. Shortly after moving into the mansion, Myra had figured out something about Diz that both surprised and disillusioned her.

He treated work astoundingly similar to Jung Soo…which translated to, _"hole myself up in one place for hours at a time, ignore anyone and anything in the outside world, including my own bodily needs, and crunch until you get the damn thing done."_

…At least, that was Myra's interpretation.

In Diz's defense, he did have a legitimate reason for needing to accomplish his goal as soon as possible, but in his excitement, the scientist seemed to have forgotten that he was no longer in a timeless place, and there were a few things he needed to do every once and a while to survive.

Like eating and sleeping.

Both of which Myra wasn't sure he did any of for their first two days in the mansion.

In light of this, a compromise was struck between them: four out of seven days of the week, Diz would show his face in the morning, sit down at the table, and eat every last bite of whatever meal Myra had cooked for breakfast. Aside from that, the blonde made sure to knock on the library door a few times each day as a reminder for him to stop and eat, or rest, or do _something_ beneficial to his health.

Several times, Myra had wondered if she now understood how Estelle had felt all these years trying to care for both her and Jung Soo. Not that she allowed herself to dwell on the thought for too long.

After several minutes of stony silence, Myra set a plate full of steaming crepes in front of Diz along with a mug of coffee. He grunted his thanks as she sat down across from him, but not before pushing the jar of honey in his direction.

Diz told her he had no specific preferences when it came to food, and he never complained about what she served them, but that didn't stop Myra from figuring out his favorites.

Turns out, Diz had a sweet tooth.

He'd requested seconds when she made pancakes, french toast, and beignets, and practically drowned every one of them in honey (maple syrup wasn't readily available in Twilight Town). Myra had been a touch concerned about the scientist consuming so much sugar at his age, but he balanced it out with black coffee and always ate the eggs or oats served on the side, so she refrained from nagging him about it.

This morning proved no different, as Myra once again watched Diz coat the folded crepes in honey and caster sugar. Her own plate remained untouched, for she feared her stomach would reject anything she tried to feed it now.

Diz was too occupied taking large bites of his meal in between rubbing his tired eyes to notice the pointed stare she was giving him.

Several minutes went by, and still no words were passed between them. Myra's mouth felt as if it were glued shut, and her innards had not ceased doing somersaults since Diz had entered the kitchen. He nearly met her gaze only once, but she quickly looked down to commence picking at her food.

Diz frowned slightly, but decided not to press her.

Once his plate was empty, Myra soundlessly got up to fetch him another helping, despite his protests that he could do it himself.

The blonde made sure her back was fully to him as to hide her trembling hands.

 _"Just say it…just say it!"_ her mind yelled as she returned to her seat. Myra swallowed roughly as Diz doctored up the crepes to his liking. She linked her hands tightly in her lap and pried her lips apart as he picked up his fork. In a single breath, she blurted out:

"When were you going to tell me that you're my real father?"

Diz set his fork back down with a muted _clink._

Slowly, his orange eyes rose to meet her purple ones.

Though she wanted nothing more than to shrink back, Myra clenched her hands tighter and held his gaze.

She couldn't read his expression at all. He didn't necessarily seem shocked or confused…but he did suddenly look older.

Finally, he sighed, long and reluctant…a sigh of quiet resignation.

"Forgive me," Diz – her _father –_ muttered. Myra's breath stuttered, but she didn't speak just yet. "It was not my intention to hide it from you. It's…well," he paused to consider his words, "I know all too well what you've been enduring. I thought it might do more harm than good if I were to burden you with such a revelation too soon."

A steady nod was Myra's reply. "I…thought it might be something like that."

Diz gazed forlornly down at the table. "Regardless, I deeply apologize. It was not right of me to keep such a thing from you. I certainly hope you never thought I was ashamed of you." The blonde absently cut into her food as she answered. "I wasn't sure of it until this morning, so I'm not really sure what I thought." Diz blinked in surprise. "Oh? And how, may I ask, did you figure it out?"

A beat of silence.

"…A dream," she replied, barely above a whisper. "A dream?" the scientist repeated, looking slightly confused. "Ah, you once mentioned your dreams. That is where you got the inspiration for that tattoo, correct?"

Myra eyed the crow inked onto her arm. "Yeah," she sighed, "ever since I was little, I've had the weirdest dreams every single night. They would always be about some place that I'd never seen before, with people that I'd never met." She gave the scientist a pointed look. "You were in some of them." A furrowed brow was the only indication of his surprise. "Go on," he encouraged.

"I never understood why I didn't dream about people, places, or events in my own life. Everyone back home I told about it thought it was strange, too."

Images of flower gardens, grand halls, flaming fields, and looming castles flashed in her mind.

"Now, I think…I think they might have been more than just dreams," Myra's brows furrowed, her eyes growing anxious, "I think they were memories…of before I lost them all. Because I-I actually haven't been having as many since coming here, but then last night-" she wrung her hands together, "-I did have one, and it was clearer than any I'd ever had before. Until now, you had always seemed familiar to me, because I'd dreamed about you before. But uh, you were always just a fuzzy figure in them. I never could see your face, which is why I didn't figure it out until now."

"Calm down, Marya," Diz cut in, noticing her escalating nervousness, "no need to force yourself."

Heeding his words, Myra paused to draw in several deep breaths before continuing. She didn't know why she was so uneasy. Diz had remained perfectly calm and unbothered by her realization, so clearly he wasn't going to suggest they part ways or something of the like.

Perhaps her brain was finally registering that this was her actual _,_ biological _, real-life father_ that she was speaking to, and it didn't know how to handle that sudden information.

As an adopted child, naturally, there were instances in which Myra had wondered who her true parents were, and what they were like.

Nothing could have really prepared her for a literal genius, time-traveling scientist in an entirely different dimension for a father.

Myra suddenly felt like the shadow he cast had tripled in size.

"But in my dream last night, I saw your face clearly for the first time. You looked younger than you do now. And then you looked at me – actually _looked_ at me, which is something that rarely happens in my dreams – and you…smiled."

Diz pressed his lips into a thin line. "Is that all that happened?"

Myra shook her head. "I remember you holding my hand, walking me through a town. We stopped by a fountain, where two others were. I couldn't make out their faces, but I distinctly remember them saying, _'Ansem, what are you and your daughter up to today?'_ That's…when I woke up."

Diz made a face as if he'd just bitten into a lemon. "…I see," was his quiet reply.

Sensing another unbearable silence coming upon them, Myra forced herself to continue. "I didn't completely figure it out until then, but…but you knew who I was from the second you saw me, didn't you?" she asked, not accusingly.

Diz nodded. "I did." His expression turned wistful. "How could I not? You look just like yo-your…"

Abruptly, the light drained from his eyes and his mouth twitched into a humorless smile.

"I'm sure you can imagine how shocked I was to find my long lost daughter in the middle of the realm of darkness. I-" he swallowed, "-I had…convinced myself that I would never see you again."

Diz's voice wobbled, a faint mist clouding his eyes.

Myra's lips parted and she squirmed in mild discomfort.

It was surreal, and a bit eye-opening to see firsthand the effect her disappearance had on him. When the blonde had awoken that day, her revelation sending her head all a-spinning, she hadn't really paused to wonder what their relationship had been like before they were separated. Clearly, he'd cared about her at the very least, perhaps even loved her as a father should love a daughter.

The thought brought equal parts fluttering warmth and crushing guilt.

Though she now had awareness of their relation, it didn't erase the fact that Myra didn't remember him. The only information of her life before were the fleeting glimpses that came to her in dreams, not to mention how young she'd been at the time.

And though she hated herself for it, Myra could feel none of the relief and love that he did.

She didn't feel…anything.

"What…happened to me?" she asked weakly. Diz cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes. "I assume you are referring to how you came to be on earth?" Myra gave a shaky nod.

The scientist cast her an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid I do not have the clear-cut answer that you're likely looking for. You see, it all happened very…suddenly." A faraway look overtook the scientist's features. "There was an attack upon our town. A swarm of Heartless came in the night. You were taken away to the basement of our house, where I foolishly assumed you would be safe," Diz closed his eyes, brow furrowing painfully, "that was…the last I ever saw of you. I had departed the house to activate the security system I had created for the town, hoping it would drive the swarm away. I succeeded…but…"

He fisted the fabric that sat over his heart, and gave a harsh cough.

"…When I arrived back at the house, our basement was torn to shreds. And you were…gone," he coughed again, "For months, I searched for you, but you were nowhere to be found in Radiant Garden. The only explanation I can…offer is-" whatever Diz had tried to say was swallowed by the coughing fit that suddenly overtook him. Myra rushed to his side, telling him to breathe, to calm down, and that it was alright.

Medical expert she was not, but it didn't take one to tell that these coughs weren't from allergies or an illness, and she was in no way prepared to help the scientist through a full-blown panic attack.

Several minutes later, Diz had regained his bearings. "F-Forgive me," he croaked, nursing a glass of water, "I'm afraid I was a bit…unprepared to discuss this."

Myra shook her head, absently patting his shoulder. "It's my fault for springing it on you."

"No," the scientist quickly retorted, casting her a stern glance, "nothing about this was any fault of yours. If I had simply been honest with you from the beginning, perhaps this could have been avoided."

The blonde opened her mouth to object, but Diz looked away and continued where he'd left off. "The only explanation I can think of as to why and how you were sent to earth is that in our basement, where you were hiding, was a replica of the machine that I had attempted to rebuild in my efforts to return there myself. Although, I lack significant evidence as to how the machine was activated, and actually _worked,_ as I had never gotten it to do so before."

Myra slowly slumped back down in her seat. "That…I-" she cast Diz a helpless glance, "-how could I just _forget_ something like that? I mean, even after I've heard everything that happened, I still don't remember anything at all!" The scientist's eyes softened. "No need to be so hard on yourself, my dear. You were merely a child. It's possible that the trauma from traveling to another dimension combined with-" he nearly choked, "-whatever occurred in that room caused you to lose your memories. You were not in control, it's nothing to be ashamed about."

Diz's expression hardened. "…Unlike myself."

Myra blinked in confusion, watching him look down in shame. "If only I hadn't insisted that you be sent down there…if only I hadn't left the house…or better yet, if only I'd listened to her and gotten rid of that damn machine while I had the chance, none of this would have ever happened!"

Her jaw dropped, and suddenly much of his behavior during their long conversation at her house made sense.

He was guilty. He _blamed himself_ for everything that had happened.

"I will not be so bold as to ask anything of you, but…if perhaps…if one day, you could find it in your heart to forgive me…" Diz trailed off, orange eyes growing dull as he dropped whatever he was about to say.

"Diz…just stop," Myra sighed, burying her face in her hands.

_So tired…_

"What's happened, happened. That's all there is to it. Dwelling on _'what ifs'_ and _'if onlys'_ won't fix that." She inhaled, long and shaky as she lifted her head. "Can we just…start over? Because honestly, I think that's the only option for us at this point. You don't need my forgiveness, because there's nothing to forgive. So can we please…forget about it?"

Myra didn't care that her tone was pathetically desperate. She had to forget about it, because otherwise, it would be all she'd think about.

She didn't want to think about earth, or everything she left behind there.

She didn't want to think about how she'd never even belonged there in the first place.

Maybe it was cowardly, but it was all she could do to hold herself together.

_You do not belong there…_

Something warm covered her hand, and upon looking up, she found it to be the hand of her…father.

"I am sorry for upsetting you, Marya. As you wish, we can start anew." Diz's face had retreated back into its unreadable mask…but there was the slightest spark of warmth in his orange eyes.

Myra nodded her thanks, gently removing her hand.

A pregnant pause passed between them, the silence neither comfortable nor awkward.

"If…you have any other questions, feel free to ask them," said Diz. The blonde noticed the way he clasped his fingers together, and how his knee shook up and down. Though his face still betrayed little, his body language practically sang with anxiety.

Almost as if he were afraid of what she might ask.

Though there were hundreds of questions she could have asked, Myra had no desire to dredge up anymore unpleasant memories that day.

She too, was at her limit.

"Um…what should I call you?" was her hesitant response. Diz snapped his gaze to hers, confusion swimming in its depths. "Pardon?"

Myra shifted uncomfortably. "Well…now that I know you're my father, is there a different name I should address you by, or…?" Comprehension dawned upon the scientist's features. "Would it please you to call me _'father,'_ or something of the like?"

Myra winced. "Um…I don't know, that might be a bit…strange."

Diz gave an understanding smile. "It's alright Marya, I am not displeased with you. Strictly speaking, you and I still don't know one another quite well, and you have also had a different man in the role of your father for the majority of your life. I imagine it would be difficult to address another as such. Feel free to call me whatever you feel most comfortable with."

Myra's shoulders fell with relief. "Thank you. Um…I don't have any other questions right now."

Diz gave a slow nod in understanding, a mixture of surprise and relief in his eyes. "…As you wish."

Taking up his plate, the scientist stood from the table. "Well, we've both had quite an…informative morning, and I'm sure you've a lot to process. I'll leave you in peace."

Myra made no objections as Diz began to exit the kitchen. However, he paused in the door frame.

"You…"

He steadily turned so just the side of his face was visible. "The family you had on earth…were they good to you?"

A sizable lump infected her throat, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut in order to swallow it down. "…yes, they were."

"…Good," was Diz's brief reply as he made himself scarce.

Myra was left in the silence of the kitchen, staring down at her crepes, which had long gone cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my aim for updates has been at least one chapter a month, but...hey, forty-five minutes into July isn't THAT bad, right? This could still be a June chapter, right?
> 
> Ugh, I need sleep...
> 
> Reviews & Constructive Criticism are always appreciated. :)


	5. Eggs Benedict

The shrill bark of a dog startled Myra out of her clouded musings. With a frown, she made a shooing gesture at the pup, lacking the desire and patience to deal with strays. As she watched it scurry away, a heavy sigh escaped her.

Several days had passed since that tense morning, and since then, things had been…odd between her and Diz. Nothing about their interactions had changed on the surface, but there was a definite friction in the air that hadn't been there before. There was so much to be said, but neither knew how or where to begin. Though she wouldn't say it aloud, Myra had begun to wonder if he was where she got all her social awkwardness from.

…Or rather, just the general unwillingness to socialize.

Currently, the blonde was wandering aimlessly about town, needing a break from the walls of the mansion. Whilst searching for a topic to ponder that didn't revolve around home or her newfound father, Myra's mind had settled on money…or rather, their rapidly declining supply of it. As it was currently unknown how long they would remain in Twilight Town, all of their money eventually running out was a very real possibility; though they didn't have to pay rent, or bills, or anything of the like, they would still need to eat, and it was always good to have a little cash set aside for emergencies.

Myra supposed she could always take up one of the numerous job postings around town, but nearly all of them were nothing more than simple odd jobs that didn't pay much. Additionally, according to Hayner, Pence, and Olette, the ones that normally took those jobs were kids and teens around their age, and Myra would feel bad if she took those opportunities away from them. But it wasn't like she could get any sort of official job, either…

"That's IT! I'm done!" shouted an aggravated voice.

Myra paused in the middle of the alleyway she'd been strolling through (something she never could have done back in Dallas) when the door of a tall, black fence suddenly burst open in front of her. "Hayner, get back here!" she heard a different voice yell as a familiar teen stomped through the gate.

Huh…speaking of the trio…

"This is ridiculous! Why should I have to find the perimeter of some dumb rectangle!? Why can't it find its own perimeter!?" shouted Hayner, looking ready to tear his hair out. "I don't even care if I fail the stupid exam! Algebra can kiss my-!"

It was at that moment the irate teen turned, noticed her standing there, and sharply froze in a comical position.

Myra arched a single brow. Hayner blushed with embarrassment, slowly lowering his arms as to scratch his neck. "Uh…hey," he murmured, avoiding her eyes. Against her will, a smirk of amusement tugged at her mouth. "Hey yourself," she replied. Olette then joined them in the alley, followed by Pence.

"Hayner, come on, we need to get back to work! What are – oh, hi Myra!" she greeted with a surprised smile.

"Hey. Ya'll having homework problems, or something?"

All three teens seemed to cringe at the word 'homework.'

"Ah, not really homework, per se. Just studying for a big exam tomorrow," Pence explained with a yawn. "Yes, and we still have two more chapters to review before we're finished!" added Olette, sending Hayner a pointed look.

"Ugh, who even cares anymore? Like I said, algebra is stupid!" Hayner grumbled. Olette crossed her arms. "You won't be saying that if you fail the semester and end up getting held back. Come on Hayner, we're going to be high schoolers soon!"

"That, and does the idea of spending summer vacation taking remedial lessons really sound fun to you?" Pence chimed in, causing Hayner to wince.

Myra tilted her head curiously at the boy's words. The school calendar must be different here if summer break still hadn't started, considering it was already July.

"Maaaaan! If that happens, I won't get to participate in this year's Struggle tournament!" Hayner whined as he clutched his head, seeming genuinely distressed at the thought.

Myra shuffled her feet as a silly idea formed in her head. Old Myra wouldn't have even considered such a thought, but as the saying goes, desperate times called for desperate measures – and current Myra was nothing _but_ desperate for a distraction.

Thus, pushing away her ingrained habit of avoiding socialization, she tentatively said: "Do you guys…want some help?"

The teens shot her various looks of incredulity, and she immediately regretted opening her mouth. _"Of course they wouldn't want help from someone they barely know-"_

"Really? You would do that?" voiced Olette, interrupting Myra's thoughts. "Uh, yeah…I don't have much to do right now, anyway," the blonde replied with a shrug. Olette and Pence brightened, but Hayner's brows knitted skeptically. "You any good at math, Myra?" he challenged.

She eyed the teen dead on. "Very."

Hayner met her gaze with a thoughtful hum. "Oh, just let her help us, Hayner. What have we got to lose?" Olette suggested, patting her friend's shoulder. "Not to mention we _do_ kind of need it. Those radicals are pretty rough," Pence added, rubbing his neck. "Oh, alright," Hayner conceded with a sigh, "as long as I pass the dumb exam tomorrow…"

Myra gave a lopsided smile. "Don't worry, I know a thing or two about preparing for tests," she assured confidently.

After all, she _had_ just finished college not two months ago.

The teens led her further back into the alley, where a little hidden room was nestled behind a red curtain. They classified it as their own personal hangout spot, though Myra guessed it had originally been some kind of storage area. Boxes, generators, ladders, and other various junk lined the brick walls, but the sparse, well-used furniture and posters were obviously the trio's touches. Myra awkwardly lowered herself down to sit on a box, cursing her long legs as she did so. The teens were using an overturned crate as a makeshift table, where their textbooks and homework were piled.

Once they had all settled in, Hayner grabbed his notebook to show her. "This is one of the problems I was working on before – uh, y'know…" he pursed his lips, still embarrassed that she'd caught him ranting. "But anyway! Every answer I've gotten doesn't make any sense, they all ended up as some weird decimal," Hayner explained, pointing to the problem.

Myra studied the equation silently as he continued: "I just don't get what I'm doing wrong! I used the example problems in the book for reference and I definitely followed all the steps! But for some reason, it-"

"You forgot to change the signs," Myra interrupted, deciding not to wait for him to finish.

Hayner paused, whipping his gaze to the notebook. "The signs?" Myra pointed out the incorrect digit. "Here, this eight should be a negative. When you move a number to the other side of an equation, its sign changes. That's why you're not getting the right answer." A heavy groan escaped the teen, and he smacked himself on the forehead. "Right, duh! I can't believe I forgot about that _again!"_

"I kept telling you to write it down in your notes, Hayner," Olette reminded, drawing another grunt of aggravation from the boy. "Hey, don't worry about it. It's an easy mistake to make. Even pros mess that up sometimes," Myra reassured. Hayner grumbled faintly in acknowledgment as he erased his work.

"Um, Myra? I'm having trouble with this one…" Olette tentatively spoke up, pointing her pencil towards a coordinate plane. "Let's take a look, then."

The rest of the afternoon ticked by as Myra tutored the young trio. Hayner had little patience for math and easily grew frustrated, so they took multiple breaks to help him cool off. Pence on the other hand, was comfortable with most of the equations and didn't need too much help, but tended to get distracted by strange things, (like how that square root looked like the symbol for some cult in one of his comic books) so Myra would enlist the help of his friends to get him refocused. Olette was a model student, listening to her explanations diligently in between keeping Hayner in line. Despite its hiccups, it wasn't the worst tutoring session Myra had ever led.

The blonde was grateful to focus her attention on something she was familiar with amidst all this nonsense about _'darkness,'_ and _'light,'_ and _'keyblades.'_ Unlike the backwards logic and crazy rules of this universe, _this_ made sense to her; she'd always had a talent for mathematics, algebra and calculus being her strongest suits. Though it was a little jarring to suddenly leap backwards to such simple equations after several semesters of college-level stuff, Myra was quick to adjust.

By the time evening rolled around, the blonde was smiling and passing jokes around with the trio, her troubles temporarily forgotten in a sea of numbers.

But alas, her problems could only be ignored for so long.

For the moment Myra stepped foot back in the mansion, life came waltzing back in with a whole armload of reminders.

"Marya."

The blonde jumped slightly at the sound of her full name. Turning, she blinked in surprise at the sight of Diz standing by the stairwell. "Diz, you're…out of the library," Myra observed.

After more contemplation than she cared to admit, the blonde had elected to continue addressing the scientist as _'Diz'_ rather than force herself to call him _'dad,'_ or anything similar. After all, she'd already spent years calling her parental figures by their first names, so why change now?

Estelle and Jung Soo had never appeared bothered by her refusal to call them _'mom'_ and _'dad,'_ nor had they ever suggested that she do so, and Diz was very much the same, so Myra felt little guilt regarding her choice.

Besides, Diz himself stubbornly continued to address her by her full name rather than the nickname that most called her by, so she saw no need to act differently.

"I've completed my task," the scientist announced. Myra's brows shot into her hairline. "You mean-" Diz nodded tiredly. "Come see for yourself."

The blonde tentatively followed him to the library, wondering just what exactly he had managed to do. Would there be a portal that led to his lab in Radiant Garden? Some kind of magic door, perhaps? Or would the library be gone, replaced by something else entirely?

All such theories flew out the window once Diz opened the door, and Myra was left staring owlishly. The table that once stood in the center of the library had been pushed against one of the shelves, replaced by a giant hole in the floor.

"Oh…my god," the blonde spoke. "It took the entirety of three weeks, but I finally managed to activate the spell that would connect parts of my lab to this mansion," Diz grunted. "Come, I will show you around."

Myra's steps towards the hole were decidingly more cautious than the scientist's, who descended the stairs as though he'd done so hundreds of times.

 _"Just…think of it as going into a basement, Myra…"_ her thoughts whispered reassuringly as she followed Diz.

_"And just when I thought I was going to have a somewhat normal day. Damn."_

Immediately, Myra felt as though she'd stepped onto the set of some bizarre science-fiction film. Pipes, vents, and zany devices lined every inch of the so-called laboratory. The floors and walls seemed to hum with vibrations, and all around the buzz and beeps of machinery could be heard. It was also incredibly dark, the only sources of light coming from the many gadgets' blinking lights and-

"What in the-"

Myra gasped at the sight of actual, digital screens, the first sign of twenty-first century technology she'd seen in this universe. "Is that a computer!?" she asked incredulously. "Indeed," answered Diz, running a hand atop one of the monitors. "I built it with the help of one of my-" he scowled, "-former apprentices."

Schooling his expression, the scientist regarded her with a raised brow. "I assume that more advanced computers have also been invented on earth at this point?" Myra nodded dumbly. "Yeah, but…they're not like this."

Without a doubt, Diz's computer was the strangest she'd ever seen. It had several monitors of various odd shapes and sizes, and rather than a mouse and keyboard, there were four elevated control panels flanking each side. Myra knew a fair amount about computers from Jung Soo, but she knew she wouldn't have the slightest clue how to work this one.

Jung Soo would probably like it, though. He was a big sci-fi nut.

Pushing away the stab of grief that arose at the thought of her adoptive father, Myra absently wondered how Diz would react if she showed him her laptop.

…Then again, perhaps that wasn't the best idea. He might ask her if he could take it apart, or something.

"What's through there?" the blonde queried, gesturing towards the door at the end of the room. "…Ah," Diz's brow furrowed, looking mildly pained, "that would lead to the pods."

An icy chill ran down her spine. "…Pods?"

With a heavy sigh, the scientist said, "Special containment units used to house individuals for the purpose of safely studying the mind and heart. When one is inside a pod, they're put into a deep sleep." Diz heavily plopped himself into the computer chair as he continued: "Back in Radiant Garden, they were utilized for both medical and scientific purposes. The most common users were survivors of Heartless attacks. Being within the pods allowed both their minds and bodies to rest and recuperate without stress. In lieu of any kind of payment, the users allowed whatever data we gathered from their hearts and minds to be donated towards our research." The scientist smiled ruefully. "It was quiet a successful venture, back it first began. Nearly all who chose to undertake the pod therapy emerged as if they were a new person…healthier both mentally and physically. Some even stayed within the pods for weeks."

Myra raised her brows. "Weeks? But wait, they never started to…y'know, deteriorate or something?" Diz shook his head. "The pods were equipped with technology specially developed to keep the body nourished and alive whilst in the coma. Technically, one could remain inside for years with no issue."

Heaving a sigh, the blonde shook her head in disbelief. "So it's like this universe's version of cryogenically freezing someone. Damn, this really is a bad sci-fi flick."

Diz ignored her remark in favor of fiddling with the computer. Myra watched with mild interest, squinting at the array of tiny numbers and letters running across the screens. Diz must have excellent eyes to be able to read those. She had 20/20 vision herself, and even she was having trouble making them all out.

As the vague outline of one of the egg-shaped pods formed on a screen, a sudden thought made Myra freeze. "There's not – I mean, none of the pods are… _occupied_ right now, yeah?"

The way Diz stilled at her question wasn't the least bit comforting.

"…I do not believe so," he finally answered, "although I'm still unsure how many years have passed in my absence, as well as what kind of…things my former apprentices were up to in that time, if one of the pods had an occupant, I would be able to see them on the computer. Besides, the spell I used isn't able to transfer living things, so if one of them had been in use, that individual has likely been sent to some other world, waking up quite confused right about now, I imagine."

She balked, both at how unconcerned Diz sounded at that notion, as well as how disturbingly familiar the situation rang.

Myra cast an uneasy glance towards the door, quickly deciding to never go through it unless she had no choice.

"So, you said this is all part of your lab back in Radiant Garden, right? If that's the case, then are we still in Twilight Town?" she asked, forcefully changing the subject. "Indeed, we are. From what my old friend told me, this spell is able to bond enchanted rooms to the caster's preferred location, provided you can remember the damned runes, of course," Diz grumbled out the last part. "Thus, these rooms are now a part of this world. If one tried to find them back in Radiant Garden, I imagine they would find nothing but empty space."

Myra hummed in vague understanding. "So, what's the plan from here on?" Diz paused in the midst of typing something. "My current goal is to dig up as many files and reports as possible in order to find out what my former apprentices were up to during my banishment. I made sure that this backup computer was connected to the main system, so everything recorded into the primary database should show up in-"

A sudden _beep_ from the computer interrupted the scientist.

"Aha! There's one now! It's encrypted, as I suspected, but Xehanort seems to have forgotten that _I_ am the one who developed these systems. Shouldn't take too terribly long to break through whatever flimsy security he's put all these files under. And then, finally, my long-due revenge can begin."

Myra drew back in discomfort at the cold smirk that stretched across Diz's lips, the same one he wore whenever he thought of his revenge.

She'd never been brave enough to ask just what exactly he planned to do to his apprentices once he found them, and honestly, Myra wasn't sure she truly wanted to know at all. After all the scientist had been through, she told herself that he should do as he wished, and that those men probably deserved whatever was coming to them. But then, there was that little whisper in the back of her mind, the one that reminded her that she only had one side of the story. Myra hadn't known Diz's apprentices, what they were like, or what could have possibly drove them to do what they did.

And if she _had_ known them, she certainly didn't remember. It was obvious that Diz had cared deeply for them at one point, otherwise his anger and pain at their betrayal wouldn't be so prominent.

Biting back a sigh, Myra stepped away from the scientist. _"Whatever. It's none of my business, anyway,"_ was her thought at that moment.

Myra had no way of knowing that the moment she'd accepted Nevermore from the mysterious voice, was the moment she unknowingly tangled herself up in something greater than she could have possibly imagined.

And there was no getting out.

**...**

_"We have eggs, we have bread flour, I bought bacon last week…crap, are they selling lemons today?"_ thought the blonde walking through the market as she stared pointedly at her shopping list.

In the two days of which Diz had accessed his lab, Myra had barely seen one glance of him, even more so than usual.

She was starting to worry that he'd injure his back sitting in that chair for so long.

In hopes of getting the scientist out of the basement for a while, she'd pestered him until he finally made a breakfast request. Thus, Myra sent herself out to the market in search of ingredients for eggs benedict.

"Ugh, I know it's summer and all, but aren't they selling any other fruit besides _watermelon?"_ Myra grumbled in annoyance.

"Oh! Oh, miss! Excuse me, miss!" an unfamiliar voice called through the market.

It took her a moment to realize that she was the _'miss'_ being addressed.

Myra turned and saw a thirty-something woman waving rapidly as she weaved through the crowd to reach her. She was confused at first, until noticing who the woman was pulling along by the wrist.

"Mom, c'mon, I can walk on my own!" Hayner loudly protested, half-heartedly trying to pull free of his mother's grasp.

"I would, but knowing you, you'd slip off into the crowd when I'm not looking to go fool around with your friends!" the woman shot back, just as loudly as her son.

"People are looking!" Hayner squawked, voice rising a few octaves. "Oh, boo hoo, such a devastating blow to your teenage pride, I know," the boy's mother drawled, rolling her brown eyes.

Myra watched the scene with mild amusement as they approached her. "Can I, uh…help you two?" the blonde asked, trying not to smirk to spare Hayner's dignity.

The woman cast her a pretty smile. "Ah, yes, sorry about that! I'm Rose, and I believe you already know my silly son here." Rose ruffled Hayner's hair, much to his chagrin. "I'm Myra, and yeah, we've bumped into each other a couple times," the blonde affirmed. "Well, he told me that you helped him and his friends study for their algebra exam the other day," the mother continued, causing Myra to tilt her head. "Um, yeah, I did."

Rose smiled bigger. "Wonderful! I was hoping to meet you so I could thank you, but this little tyke here-" she patted Hayner's shoulder, "-didn't know where you were staying, and since you're new in town, I couldn't look you up in the directory."

The blonde stiffened. "That's sweet of you, but you really don't have to thank me," she quickly replied, hoping to fan away the topic of her lodgings. She wouldn't know how to answer if someone asked where she lived.

"No, no, I really do! Because of you, my cute little troublemaker got the highest grade he's ever had in a math class! Hayner's always struggled with math, you see-"

"Shut up, mom!" Hayner hissed. Rose peered at her son with raised brows, making him wilt. "Anyhow, you can't imagine how surprised I was when he brought his exam home! At first I thought he'd swapped his test with someone else's-" Rose continued on as if nothing had happened, leaving Hayner to sulk quietly.

The woman proceeded to rattle on about how proud she was of her son and how grateful she was for Myra's assistance - ultimately reminding the blonde of when her own mother had told every member of their church body that she could about how shocked and happy she was that her bookish, non-athletic daughter had made the volleyball team her freshman year.

Rose's ramblings gave off the same air of pride and exasperation that Estelle's had.

"-and now that he's gotten such good marks on this exam, his overall semester grade will go up too! But well, anyway, the point of all my inane chatter is thank you! I do so appreciate you helping my son in his academic pursuits!" Rose finished, barely winded from her one-sided chat. Myra rubbed the back of her head. "Like I said, it's really not necessary, but uh, you're welcome. It was no problem."

"Hey, there you are!" came a sudden voice. Pence and Olette appeared out of the crowd, jogging up to meet them. Myra almost laughed aloud at the pure relief that crossed Hayner's face.

"We were wondering why you hadn't shown up at the usual spot yet, but I think I see why now," Pence remarked with a chuckle, eyeing the two women.

"So anyway, we're done here, right? I can go, right?" said Hayner as he put an arm around each friend and began to lead them away.

"Not so fast," Rose interjected, planting a hand atop her son's head. "Ugh, what now!?" the boy complained, drawing laughter from Pence and Olette. Rather than answering him, Rose turned her attention back on Myra. "Actually, there was something else I was hoping to talk to you about."

 _"Crap, there's more?"_ the blonde thought anxiously.

Hanging out with a bunch of kids was one thing, but talking to adults brought risks of exposure and suspicion. Diz had forewarned her about interacting with the town's residents early on, and she'd done a decent job at following his advice…until now, at least.

Oblivious to Myra's worries, Rose gave a hopeful smile. "You see, the kids' final exams are coming up in a couple weeks, and then, since they're moving up into high school, they'll also have to take entrance exams next month. And since Hayner did so well with your help, I was wondering, as long as you're currently available, if you'd be willing to tutor him for a short period of time?"

"Huh!?" Hayner exclaimed as Myra blinked in surprise.

She automatically opened her mouth to decline –

"I'll pay you, of course!"

– only to snap it closed.

"Mom, are you serious!? I already have to waste most of my week sitting in school, now you want me to spend my weekends learning too!?" Hayner protested. Rose raised a dubious brow. "Alright son, then tell me that you are absolutely, positively, _one hundred percent certain_ that you can and will pass the exams without outside help." Hayner blanched, lips pressing into a thin line. "I-I uh, well…" the boy trailed off, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "That's what I thought," Rose deadpanned.

"Look, sweetie," she gave a gentle sigh, "I'm not suggesting this to make your life miserable. The truth is, you and I both know that with the current state of your grades, there's a very real possibility that you'll get held back. I don't want you to waste your vacation taking remedial lessons anymore than you do! Besides, didn't you say you were going to win the Struggle tournament this year?"

"Yeah…" Hayner muttered, prompting a smile from his mother. "Then I think a few extra hours of lessons is a small price to pay for an entirely free summer vacation, yeah?"

With a huff, Hayner conceded. "Fine…" Rose chuckled. "Atta boy!" she encouraged whilst ruffling her son's hair again.

"Mom, cut that out already!"

Olette and Pence snickered at the scene whilst Myra hid a grimace.

"Of course, that all depends on whether or not Myra can tutor you," said Rose, drawing the blonde's attention back. She fidgeted slightly beneath the expectant gazes that turned her way as she considered the offer.

Though she didn't particularly want to, nor did she think it was a good idea to get even cozier with the group, the issue of money occurred to her again. Myra didn't think she'd earn anything too substantial from something like tutoring, but even a little extra could help them significantly in the future. She didn't know anyone else in town that'd be willing to give her any sort of work, at least, not without some kind of background check. No matter how she turned the suggestion over in her head, Myra had to admit that she'd be stupid not to accept.

"…I guess I could help," the blonde finally agreed.

The answering beam Rose sent her made Myra's head hurt.

"Really!? Oh, thank you, Myra! We'd really appreciate it!"

Hayner grumbled out a half-hearted thanks of his own, still not looking all too happy at the arrangement. Noticing this, Olette jumped to her friend's aid. "Actually Myra, if it's not too much to ask, I could use some help too. I've been having trouble in Biology."

Before the blonde could even react, Pence spoke up as well. "Same here. Literature's been kicking my butt."

Once again, Myra opened her mouth to speak, but Olette beat her to the punch. "Hey, if we're all gonna be doing this, we could just have our sessions at the usual spot after school! That way, we'd still have our weekends free! We normally do homework after school, anyway."

Hayner's downtrodden expression pulled a complete 180. "Aw man, you guys are the best!"

Myra eyed the group owlishly, taken aback by such an adorable display of friendship.

"Don't get too ahead of yourselves now, kids. Myra hasn't agreed yet," Rose chimed in. The trio froze, casting the blonde sheepish expressions. "Right, sorry. Um, if it helps, we could pay you as well. It's only fair," said Olette.

"Sure. I think I have enough allowance left if I-"

"Woah, wait a second, ya'll," Myra quickly interrupted Pence. "I don't have a problem with helping all three of you. However, I won't take any money-" she gestured to Pence and Olette, "-from you two. I'm not comfortable with that. If you really want to pay me, that's fine, but get permission from your parents first."

The teens pumped their fists in unison. "Awesome! Thanks, Myra!" said Hayner. "Now, let's get ice cream!" Pence and Olette cheered in agreement whilst Rose huffed. "You and your ice cream. Sometimes I really think your head isn't screwed on right, son."

_"Ai, Myra, you made your brother cry again. You need to get your head screwed on right, Mija."_

Rose's familiar words made something lurch inside of Myra.

Watching Hayner playfully argue with his mother caused it to thrash.

And seeing Rose ruffle his hair for the third time made it snap.

"I-" Myra croaked, turning the groups' attention, "-I just remembered that I have to be somewhere. I'll see you kids…Monday, right?" The teens nodded, and the blonde gave a strained smile as she backed away. "Cool, cool…Monday, then…uh, bye."

Myra was gone before she could hear any of their replies. Keeping her gaze on the ground, she awkwardly pushed her way through the crowd. It was difficult to focus on where she was going when her throat felt like it was trying to close in on itself, but she managed to slip into one of the alleyways, where she then vanished in a swirling purple vortex.

The blonde stumbled out into the forest, her bag falling to the ground with a dull _thud._ Placing trembling hands on the nearest tree, Myra took a deep breath in, and –

\- she wasn't completely sure what she'd been expecting to come out, but a long, low wail wasn't it.

Before her brain could even hope to catch up, the blonde found herself gasping, sobbing, screaming into the tree, nails digging into the bark and leaving long scratch marks as she slid down the trunk.

The afternoon wind blew, animals scurried about, and the sun descended steadily as time marched forward…uncaring and unnoticing of her sorrow.

As Myra wept to no ears but those of the forest, a pale, unhuman figure watched from a distance.

**...**

By the time the lazy sun showed its face the next morning, Myra was convinced that the five stages of grief were complete and utter bullshit.

The brief shock and dismay she'd felt upon first arriving to this universe was _nothing_ compared to the crushing despair that swallowed her now.

Her grief didn't come to her in a nice, cohesive, step-by-step pattern; rather, it came in constant bursts. Though Myra felt as if she was mentally moving forward with every harsh wave, she would inevitably be brought back to where she started, like a deranged carousel she couldn't get off of.

One moment, she lay still as a corpse as depression gnawed at her insides, the only source of motion being the tears sliding down her cheeks.

The next, nails dug into her palms and bedsheets as a roaring anger threatened to consume her. She'd hiss and swear and curse the heartless, the universes, God, and anything else her clouded mind considered to hold any responsibility for her grief.

Finally, there came the longest, hardest phase: a deep, yawning emptiness, much like the one Myra felt each night before falling asleep, only this one caused a numbness so extreme that it was almost painful. It was as if she were a robot with programmed emotions that were overloading with every cycle, so she had to be shut down and rebooted in order to function again.

Except she didn't get the advantage of her emotions being artificial.

Myra lay still on her bed, watching the sun's gentle rays stretch across her room. Somewhere in her abused mind, she knew that she should have gotten up a while ago, but her body refused to move.

She couldn't conjure up a single reason to leave her bed.

Just when she began to think that she might never move again, a knock sounded at her door.

"…Marya?" called the familiar voice on the other side.

"…what?" she managed to answer.

A beat of silence.

"…May I come in?"

A longer beat.

"…sure."

The door opened, followed by tentative footsteps. Slowly, Myra forced her body up into a sitting position, and eventually turned her head just enough to meet Diz's gaze.

She must have looked pretty awful, because he grimaced at the sight of her. Myra didn't blame him, after all, she had spent the previous night sobbing and thrashing in fits of rage in lieu of sleeping.

"You are unwell," the scientist stated. Myra dropped her gaze, not even trying to argue. "Why are you here?" she whispered weakly. "I was concerned when you failed to come down for breakfast," Diz replied.

Myra blinked once.

It took a moment for her brain to recall that it was Saturday, thus, one of the days she cooked. She didn't have the emotional capacity to feel guilty.

"…Sorry," she murmured. Diz regarded her unreadably for a few long moments. Then, with a gentle sigh, he turned to cautiously sit on the edge of her bed. Myra gave no outward reaction, she merely stared bemusedly.

A strained silence stretched between them, a silence that she was quite familiar with; it was a silence that prefaced a heavy talk.

"For the first year of my banishment to this universe, I did not allow grief nor fear to linger within me," Diz began, "rather than waste time moping about, I thought it best to pour my energy into finding a way home. _'If a way exists to be transported to this realm, then surely, the reverse must be possible as well!'_ That is what I kept telling myself."

He heaved a burdened sigh. "I thought nothing of my lack of emotional breakdown at first. I even considered myself strong because of it. But…alas, I was a fool. I failed to realize how much harm I was causing to myself in suppressing my grief rather than confronting it…until one horrid night."

The scientist ran a hand down his face. "After a year of one failure after another, I unconsciously grew more and more frustrated. In my refusal to acknowledge my feelings, they all came bursting forth at once, and the haze of my fury caused me to hurt someone I cared for." He shook his head in shame. "I will regret that night for the rest of my life."

Diz met her gaze from the corner of his eye. "Shortly after your appearance here, I began to see similar behavior in you. I worried that you would go on to repeat my mistakes. Although, I admit that I refrained from interfering out of fear of overstepping. To you, I was merely a stranger…and…though it pains me to say, I likely don't know you as well as I once did either."

Myra opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth. What response could she possibly offer to that? It wasn't like he was wrong.

"Regardless," Diz carried on, "I just…hope you do not feel any shame for succumbing to your grief. Showing emotion does not always constitute weakness. And in situations such as ours, one can hardly blame us," his tone lightened for the last part, causing Myra to wonder if that was some weird attempt at cracking a joke.

The moment evaporated the instant he cast her a jarringly poignant look. "You don't know how relieved I am that you're not repeating my actions. That you are real, and you are…human."

Her brows furrowed. The blonde didn't know what was stranger about that comment: his choice of words, or how said words didn't match his expression.

Ultimately, she dismissed his odd behavior as a side effect from his background, as she often did whenever he did or said something bizarre. Besides, she figured it was time she did a bit of sharing of her own.

"I think-" she swallowed, "-I think I was more ashamed that I _couldn't_ feel anything for a while." Diz stiffened beside her, but she barely noticed.

What she was trying to tell him was something Myra had never shared with _anyone,_ and she suddenly felt very aware of that.

"I mean, whenever I thought of home or my family, I might have been upset for a moment, but it was always easy to ignore. Maybe _too_ easy. I thought that, maybe, I was just in denial…but now, I think it had more to do with the fact that I wasn't as surprised about all this as I should've been."

Diz's eyes narrowed, but he let her continue.

"I just…ever since I was young, I think that somewhere, deep down, a part of me knew that – that I wasn't…" Myra's brows knitted as she made vague gestures.

_"God, I don't know how to say this without sounding pretentious!"_

Finally, with a deep sigh, she swallowed her mortification and said, "…I knew something about me wasn't right. That I…didn't belong."

Memories of an estranged childhood rose in her mind.

Constant struggles to mentally and emotionally connect with her peers that persisted to her early teens, where she finally gave up in favor of focusing on her studies.

Estelle and Jung Soo enrolling her in counseling, where, rather than learn how to regulate her emotional health, she instead learned how to act normal to ease her parent's worries.

Myra remembered how she stopped questioning things that didn't make sense to her and educated herself on the subject instead to avoid the confused glances she'd receive upon asking what a _'television'_ was, or why the local law enforcement was referred to as _'police'_ rather than _'guards.'_

Her immediate family always labeled it as _'selective amnesia,'_ but Myra was fairly certain that was only because they weren't sure how else to explain why she'd never heard of some things that kids even younger than her were familiar with.

The blonde quickly grew tired of the looks of pity she'd get for mentioning her memory loss, so she became good at hiding her confusion and wonderment when she didn't understand something.

Why did everyone else dream about familiar comforts and fears from their own lives, while she only dreamed about people and places she'd never seen before?

Why was she accused of being spacey and weird when she stared up at the night sky?

Why did she always feel off or out of place no matter where she went, or who she was around?

Myra's counselor always said her behavior stemmed from a combination of trauma and alienation, but she always felt as if it were more than that.

Like a puzzle piece that didn't fit, a joke no one was in on, an abnormality that made even the world tilt its head in confusion, Myra's presence on earth had always felt like an inconvenience no one was prepared to deal with.

Diz was casting her a pained look, and it was only then the blonde realized she'd said all of that out loud.

"And…do you still feel that way now?" he asked quietly. Myra stared listlessly at her hands as she replied. "…I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

The scientist's eyes dimmed as he nodded. "For what it's worth, know that your presence here, though certainly unexpected, is no inconvenience to me."

Myra managed a crooked smile. "I…thanks."

As Diz nodded in reply, the blonde found herself feeling torn about their chat. On one hand, Myra couldn't deny that it was comforting to know she had someone who knew exactly what she was going through to confide in. On the other, Diz wasn't exactly an emotional person, so such conversations always carried an air of awkwardness.

…On the other _other_ hand though, Myra wasn't overly sentimental herself and had a less-than favorable track record of dealing with people who were, so maybe that was a good thing.

_"Well…at least he doesn't seem weirded out by what I told him."_

Drawing in a wobbly breath, Myra sniffed and brushed away the hairs that had stuck to her dried tears. "Does it…ever get easier?" she whispered.

Diz's gaze turned deeply empathetic. "My dear…there is nothing easy about grief."

Pursing her lips to keep them from trembling, Myra nodded. Though it hurt to hear, Myra appreciated that she could trust Diz to never sugarcoat anything, even in a situation such as this.

False hope always stung more than no hope.

Folding his hands, the scientist continued. "When I finally began to accept that I may never return to earth, it was…quite hard. Most days, I could not scrounge up the motivation to do much of anything. Eventually, I started my own ritual of sorts each morning to help myself through it. From the moment I woke up, I would try and come up with one reason – no matter how small or arbitrary – to leave my room. Whether it was to empty the waste basket, brush my teeth, use the last of the jam before it spoiled, or say hello to the kindly old women next door…as long as I was able to find a single reason to force myself out, sometimes another would arise, which led to another, and another, and before I knew it, I'd have a fairly productive day behind me."

Diz released a steady breath. "I didn't always succeed, but…the encouraging smile a dear friend of mine would always give me on the good days made it worth trying." His expression fell for the briefest of moments before he turned to fully meet her eyes. "If you have more days such as this, try to find that one reason. And always remember that you are under no obligation to suffer alone. Even I may not have recovered if it had not been for the kind, wonderful citizens of Radiant Garden…and my dear, dear friend."

Before Myra could reply, Diz stood with his fingers laced behind his back. "I think I shall cook this morning. It's been…a bit, but I'm sure I can whip something up." The scientist regarded her briefly from the doorway. "I shall be sure to save you a portion, if you should decide to eat. It won't be nearly as superb as anything you make, but it should be…edible."

With that anticlimactic line, Diz left her alone, shutting the door behind him.

Myra sat in silence for a while after his departure, turning the conversation over in her head. She hadn't really expected him to try and comfort her, nor was she certain of his overall success, but…at least her vicious emotional cycle seems to have halted for the time being.

Against her will, Myra found herself wondering what sort of advice Estelle would give her in this situation. Her adoptive mother always had a knack for handing out guidance and suggestions in any situation, regardless of whether or not they were asked for.

 _"What would she say if she could see me right now, I wonder? 'Suck it up,' maybe?"_ Myra thought half-jokingly. Estelle could be cynical, but she wasn't cruel.

_"Nah, I know exactly what she'd do. The woman would toss a Bible verse at me, without a doubt."_

Resting against the headboard, the blonde pondered which verse Estelle would deem appropriate for this situation. _"Probably the one about not worrying about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. She always liked that one a lot. Where was that verse, again? Somewhere in the New Testament? Eh, whatever."_

Christianity had always been her parents' thing, not hers. Though both were actively involved in their church, Myra's association had always ended at showing up to the services every once and while, and occasionally mingling with its members. Neither parent had ever tried to force their beliefs on their children, Estelle especially after growing up in a strict Catholic household, and Myra had never bothered to stop and seriously consider her opinion on the matter.

Now, the blonde thought she would probably believe in anything after all that'd happened.

Thoughts of home were beginning to stir sadness in her once again, so Myra turned her mind to Diz's advice instead.

_"Find a reason, huh…"_

After a moment of thought, she decided as good a reason as any would be to go make sure the scientist didn't catch the kitchen on fire. He hadn't sounded all that confident about his cooking skills, after all.

_"I'll just...take it one day at a time."_

**...**

_BRRRIIIING_

Myra cringed as the school bell blared for all to hear. _"Great, I'm already starting to regret this."_

The blonde was leaning against the wall that surrounded the school building, keeping an eye out for a certain trio as kids started to filter out. More than once, she had to reach out to help someone who'd been tripped or knocked over amongst the throng of rushing teens, excited to officially start their summer vacation.

_"Yeah, I really do not miss this."_

"Myraaa! Hey, over here!" shouted Hayner, waving as he, Pence, and Olette made their way over to her. The blonde's shoulders relaxed and she offered them a smile. "Hello, students."

The trio stood before her side by side as she scrutinized them with crossed arms. "Well? How'd it go?" she asked, though by the looks on their faces, Myra was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"We passed!" the teens cried in unison. "I got the highest semester grade I've gotten in…like, ever!" Hayner boasted with a million-watt grin. "You better have, after all the trouble I went through to pound those formulas into your head," Myra teased. "Hayner _does_ have a pretty thick head," Pence added, prompting a glare from his friend. "At least I don't have a thick stomach!" he shot back. Pence shrugged at the insult, giving his belly a loving pat. "Being heavier makes it harder for people to kidnap you."

"Knock it off, guys," Olette interjected while Myra smirked in amusement.

Tutoring the trio had been a mixed experience of exasperation and fun. Though they often bickered about dumb things, as many teens did, their friendship was genuine and heartwarming. Myra found herself both awed and envious watching their interactions, as she'd never had such a friendship before.

"Given all your hard work, I think you kids have earned a reward," said the blonde, reaching down to pick up three gift bags. Hayner's eyes bugged. "Whoa, we get _gifts!?_ Best tutor ever!"

The teens gave excited grins as they accepted the bags. "Thanks, Myra, but you didn't have to give us anything!" said Olette. "Just don't eat all of them at once," was her reply.

"All right, score!" Hayner exclaimed as he wolfed a chocolate chip cookie. "OH! Oh, _aw man,_ that is _gooood!"_ he praised through a mouthful. "Wow! That's delicious! Myra, you didn't tell us you could bake!" Olette added after taking a nibble from a sugar cookie. Pence looked as if he were floating on cloud nine, eyes closed and mouth turned up in a blissful smile as he chewed. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Jean from the bakery would kill to have cookies this great. Ooo, a snickerdoodle!"

"I wasn't sure what ya'll liked, so I made a variety," said Myra. "Is this why you asked us if we had any food allergies last week?" asked Olette, prompting the blonde to nod. "Even if I _was_ allergic, I'd still eat these!" Hayner proclaimed as he stuffed another cookie in his mouth. "Slow down, Hayner! You have Struggle practice after this, remember?" warned Olette, causing her friend to freeze mid-chew.

"Aw, crud!" he cursed as he stuffed the cookie container back in the bag. "C'mon guys, let's get going! The tournament is in a few weeks, so I gotta to start practicing now!"

"Hayner, wait!" Olette hurriedly thanked Myra one more time before running after her friend. "Wanna tag along, Myra?" Pence offered. "Eh, I'm good. Seifer will be there, and I don't think he'd be too keen on having me around." With an understanding smile, Pence bid goodbye and followed his friends.

Now alone, Myra strolled through the town, no real destination in mind. She had no other matters to attend that day, so she was once again left to her own devices.

She was thinking of doing some window shopping, when a sudden, familiar _WHOOSH_ made her jump ten feet in the air.

Whirling around, Myra's eyes widened as a corridor materialized in front of her, and a strange figure walked out. They paused upon seeing each other, both sporting comically shocked expressions.

"… _Diz?_ Is that you!?" Myra exclaimed.

"Ah, indeed it is. I apologize if I startled you," replied the scientist, shifting his grocery bag to the opposite hand.

Myra stared for a good minute, mind racing as it tried to decide on which question to start with.

"Yo-You can use the corridors now?" she voiced incredulously. "I can. I learned how to not two days ago. But worry not, for I am not so weak as to let the darkness consume me," Diz answered calmly. "But…the last time we used a corridor, you got really weak. Are you alright?" Myra inquired. "It seems as long as I don't remain within them for an extended period of time, my body can withstand it," the scientist assured.

Huffing a sigh, the blonde rubbed her temple. "I – yeah, okay. But Diz, what…what are you _wearing?"_

Gone was the scientist's white coat and red scarf. Instead, the outfit he now sported was a sea of black; black boots, black trousers, black shirt with sleeves that ended in fingerless gloves, and a neckpiece that stretched up to cover his mouth and nose. A red cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, covering the upper half of his torso, and had a hood attached that practically swallowed his head.

If Myra hadn't caught a glimpse of his orange eyes, she wouldn't have recognized him.

"I purchased these garments to hide my identity," Diz explained simply.

 _"From where, a cosplay store!?"_ Myra refrained from asking.

"And what is that?" she gestured to the convenience store bag in his hand. The scientist shifted, hand rising to rest on the back of his neck. "I-er, well…that is…"

The blonde blinked in surprise. She'd never seen Diz _visibly flustered_ before, and the sight was a bit surreal.

"I'd…heard that this town carried sea salt ice cream, and I wished to buy some," he muttered.

Myra blinked rapidly, unable to stop the slight _"Pfft!"_ that came out of her mouth.

Somehow, she both was and wasn't surprised to know that Diz dragged himself out of the mansion just for ice cream.

_"Isn't he just full of surprises?"_

"I did get one for you, as well," he said, fishing a wrapped ice cream bar out of the bag. "O-Oh…" the blonde stammered, eyeing the treat in astonishment. "Um, thanks." She awkwardly accepted it with a nod. Diz then pulled out his own, wasting no time in ripping it open.

After depositing the bag and wrappers into the nearest bin, the odd duo continued strolling through town. Diz pulled his mask down and took a bite out of the frozen sweet, prompting Myra to hesitantly do the same. She didn't normally eat pre-packaged food, but it felt rude to waste the treat when he'd bought it for her.

The flavor that bloomed in her mouth wasn't at all what she'd expected: what started out as jarringly salty transformed into a soft, mellow sweetness that complimented the flavor before it, and left a pleasing aftertaste. Myra could tell that just the right amount of salt had been mixed into the ice cream, though she couldn't quite pinpoint the kind of salt; Mediterranean, maybe? It certainly had an ocean-ey taste. Perhaps it was a special kind of salt gathered from this world's sea.

"This is surprisingly good…" Myra commented, brow furrowed as she puzzled out a possible recipe in her head. Diz smiled. "Ah, excellent. Good to see your tastes haven't changed." At her perplexed look, he said, "This used to be your favorite treat. Yours and mine."

Blinking in shock, Myra regarded the ice cream with a new awe.

This…was a piece of her lost childhood?

Taking another bite, the blonde felt an ancient nostalgia wash over her. For the briefest moment, a stunningly clear picture of grey stone walls and walkways, a grand fountain, and a cluster of homes formed in her mind.

Disorientated, Myra blinked in amazement.

That was…the first clear picture of her childhood home that she'd seen outside of her dreams.

Warm, tentative excitement built up in her chest at the realization. _"Maybe there's hope that I'll remember yet…"_

Out of the corner of her eye, Myra noticed Diz watching her with distant fondness, and she got the feeling she wasn't the only one having a trip down memory lane.

"I-" the scientist spoke, breaking the silence that had formed between them, "-I've been meaning to thank you. Though you had no need to do so, you've taken care of our place of residence and provided meals on a daily basis. In complete honestly, I'm not certain how I would have managed without your intervention."

Myra blushed at the unexpected remark. Though she'd been trying not to think about it, the blonde had to admit that genuine praise from him felt…different now that she was aware of their relation.

"Well, you picked me up and led me out of that hellhole when I had nowhere to go, so it's the least I could do," she replied. Diz gave an absent hum as he finished off his ice cream. "I think I'll head back first. I'm quite close to cracking into the last document I've found regarding my apprentices' deeds. It will take me a while to go over them once I do." Myra nodded and watched the scientist disappear into a dark portal.

After an hour or so longer of wandering about that town (and possibly finding out where that ice cream was sold) the blonde decided to head back herself. She briefly considered also using a portal, but opted to walk instead, figuring she could use the exercise.

Traveling from the town into the forest wasn't the easiest task, as most of it was blocked off by the towering wall that surrounded this part of town. The only way to get there on foot was to squeeze through a broken part of the wall in one of the alleys. Apparently, many residents thought the forest was bad luck, due to the previous owner of the mansion totally up and vanishing one day. Myra had yet to see any ghosts, but heartless did occasionally pop up there, so she couldn't blame them for being cautious.

Halfway through the forest, another strange _WHOOSH_ drew her attention. At first, she thought perhaps it was Diz again, but what she saw upon turning around was most certainly _not_ the scientist.

Letting out a startled yelp, Myra jumped backwards, Nevermore flashing to her side.

_"I shouldn't have said anything about ghosts!"_

What stood before her was no Heartless, but was most certainly not human either. It had a lithe, willowy body that seemed to dance in place even as it stood still. Its body was completely white with blue lines that ran down its sides, and instead of a face, it had a strange symbol atop its flat head.

Myra pointed her keyblade at it, but it made no move to attack, and just when she thought things couldn't get stranger, a new voice sounded behind her.

"So, I was not mislead, after all."

Spinning around, a slight gasp escaped her at the sight of a mysterious figure. Unlike the strange white creature, this figure – as far as she could tell – was a human man, though she could see none of his features beneath his large, black hood.

"Who are you!?" she demanded, turning her weapon towards him with trembling arms. She'd never fought an actual person with her blade before, and the thought of doing so made her stomach clench.

Ignoring her question, the man took two leisurely paces towards her. "Tell me…how did you come to have a keyblade in your possession?" he spoke with a voice like rich velvet.

Myra blanched. "T-That's none of your business, _who the hell are you!?"_

"The darkness is prevalent within you. I'd venture that you've been a nobody for a while now, have you not?" he inquired, continuing to come closer. Moving away, the blonde flinched when her back hit a tree, but she didn't take her eyes off the cloaked figure. "W-What? What are you talking about!?"

The term _'nobody'_ rang a bell somewhere, but Myra was too high strung to recall.

The man paused a few inches away from where her keyblade hovered, regarding her silently for a moment.

"Do you seek purpose?" he suddenly asked.

The blonde reeled at the question. "Huh!?"

"No, not purpose…" the figure corrected himself, scrutinizing her with piercing golden eyes she caught a glimpse of from beneath his hood, "… _belonging._ "

Myra recoiled at the word.

"Yes, that is it…you are lost. You require a place to return to…a goal to strive toward." Slowly, the man extended an open hand to her. "I can give you that…if you join us."

The blonde eyed his hand as if it were a loaded gun. "Us!? Who's _us!?_ Your weird cult!?" she squeaked.

The man withdrew his hand. "What a crude term. We are no cult, but an organization of individuals just like you. Empty husks, who seek to be whole again. If you join us, all these things that you desire will find you."

Myra wondered with acute bewilderment if he realized just how suspicious he sounded. For supposedly not being part of a cult, he sure did sound like he was recruiting her for one!

He spoke slowly, but firmly, not a single word wasted. Shivers ran down her spine as she wondered how many he'd coerced with that authoritative tone.

Abruptly, the man took a step back. "You are hesitant. Very well," he turned around, "I shall give you time to consider my generous offer. When you do decide to join us, follow the dusks. They will lead you to us."

A dark corridor materialized in front of him before Myra could ask what a _'dusk'_ was.

"We will be waiting for you. Until then."

With that, the mysterious figure disappeared through the corridor, and the strange white creature vanished into the ground.

Myra stood in silent, unblinking terror for several long moments as she tried to process what had just happened.

Then, clutching Nevermore to her chest, the blonde dashed in the direction of the mansion, not looking back for a second.

* * *

_?_

**_"I see you've given away your keyblade."_ **

_"It was mine to do with what I pleased."_

_**"You would waste your gift that was meant for OUR people!"**   
_

_"Our people are gone."_

**_"But they could be revived! You fool, why do you not see that you've all but ruined our kingdom!?"_ **

_"Our kingdom was ruined long before you or I came along."_

_**"You are wrong! You spit upon all that has been sacrificed in the name of _ with such words! Our ancestors weep at your cowardice!"** _

_"I care not for the tears of the dead, for they no longer know the suffering of the living."_

_**"Disgrace of a princess! You will regret everything the day that I reclaim our kingdom!"** _

_"...I already bear the weight of many regrets, brother."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at me, actually updating before the very last second of the month! Progress, am I right?
> 
> A few things to address in this chapter: I know that the weird lab beneath Twilight Town was like, actually a part of the mansion originally, but when I stopped to think about it, I wondered: "...Why in the hell is that even down there? Where did it come from? What the hell was it being used for until Diz came along? Also, why is it called the mansion's basement? You go into it from the library, which is on THE SECOND FLOOR!" So yeah, after that little realization, I decided that I had two options going into this chapter: I could come up with a very detailed backstory for the mansion that would explain its presence down there, or I could abracadabra up a weird-ass KH worthy explanation, sooo, that's what I did. Idk if it's actually explained somewhere in the KH canon, but this is how it's going to be in my story.
> 
> Secondly, YES I DID CHANGE DIZ'S OUTFIT, AND NO ONE WILL EVER CONVINCE ME TO DO OTHERWISE. Seriously, what on God's good earth is that THING they put him in!? Why does he have BELTS on his FACE!? So yeah, this is how he'll be dressed up until the end of KH II for my story.
> 
> Thirdly, I'm really sorry if this chapter seems crammed or filled with fluff, but I REALLY wanted to write some good old, wholesome character interactions...plus they help with developing Myra's character, so y'know, it's not completely pointless! I've just been SO FREAKING EAGER to finally get the actual plot rolling and into stuff from the games, sooooo please excuse the time skips.
> 
> Reviews & Constructive Criticism are always appreciated. :)


	6. Where's David Bowie When You Need Him?

Absent whistling filled the dark streets of the World That Never Was, its whimsical tune horribly unfitting of the dreary environment. A black-cloaked figure strolled through the alleys as if he hadn't a care in the universe, hands linked behind his head as he took one long, sweeping step after the other. A few dusks hovered nearby, some even attempting to mimic his nonchalant strides, but the figure paid them no mind.

Cripes, he was bored. But boredom beat working or getting scolded by Saix for the umpteenth time.

…Both of which Demyx had no doubt he'd get an armload of once he inevitably returned to the castle.

…Especially considering the harmless prank he'd decided to pull before leaving for missions that morning.

But if he was screwed either way, he might as well prolong the inevitable for as long as he felt he could without getting straight up eliminated upon his return.

Alas, such thoughts still did nothing to alleviate his terrible boredom. Though Demyx wanted nothing more than to open a portal straight to Atlantica, his usual spot for slacking off, he'd had a rather close scrape with being exposed last time he was there, so he figured it best to avoid the world for a while. The longer he wandered, the more tempted he was to just plop down somewhere and play his sitar, but that would absolutely draw unwanted attention.

_"Man, what's a guy gotta do to get a little break around here?"_

Just as Demyx thought this, a barrage of Heartless came scattering around the corner. "Aw, come _on!"_ he whined, wondering what the universe had against him. He pressed himself against the wall of a nearby building, preparing to RTC the hell out of there, when a different corridor most definitely not summoned by him opened up in front of the hoard – and out tumbled a being that was neither Heartless nor a fellow member of the Organization.

Flabbergasted, Demyx watched the unfamiliar woman cut down the drove of Heartless with some bizarre weapon, and movements so wild and quick that it seemed even she was having trouble keeping up with them, nearly tripping over her feet a few times. Hearts floated up into the sky one by one, rushing to join their kingdom.

Just like that, the hoard vanished before Demyx even had time to blink, leaving him to gape at the woman who stood panting in the street, hunched over with her back to him as though she may collapse any second. One little shadow slunk towards her, twitching and clearly weakened from her attack.

Demyx flinched harshly when the woman abruptly stabbed her weapon into the straggler, sending it to join its fallen brethren. "Fuck!" she swore, swiping her hand across her forehead.

"Uh…" Demyx murmured without thinking, completely taken aback by his sudden predicament.

The woman whirled on him faster than he could process, and he blanched upon finding the tip of her weird weapon shoved in his face.

"Ack! Wait, wait, wait!" he stammered, waving his hands frantically. Demyx yanked his hood down, meeting the pair of bloodshot violet eyes head-on. Her hard, shaken expression melted into one of utter bewilderment upon meeting his gaze.

Demyx squirmed as she looked him up and down, totally unable to comprehend why she was staring at him like that. Finally, she lowered her weapon, and he wilted in relief.

"Are you part of the… _organization_ I'm supposed to be joining?" she drawled tiredly, rubbing one of her bruised eyes with the heel of her palm. Demyx froze, sputtering out a "Huh!?"

Why did she know about them!? Last he knew, no one outside of their ranks was supposed to have even heard about them! Did someone slip up somewhere? Did _he_ slip up somewhere!? Oh no, the boss was gonna be _so mad_ if they ended up being compromised, and if it really was his fault, he was as good as yesterday's toast!

Demyx's mental train of panic came to a halt when a trickle of conversation from the last meeting rose in his mind. It could just be the last shreds of his composure trying to make up something that might save his ass, but Demyx thought he remembered Xemnas mentioning a new member joining their ranks soon, and to be on the lookout for her throughout the next few weeks.

Demyx forced an awkward smile, meeting the woman's wearying gaze. "Ohhh, you must be that new member the boss told us about!"

The woman blinked, head drooping as if she were about to fall asleep. "Yeah, yeah…do me a solid and take me to the bastard, will you please? I can't deal with any more of these stupid ass Heartless today."

Demyx was stunned by how easily she called Xemnas a bastard. Not even dumb Larxene tended to trash talk their leader so candidly when in a twenty mile radius of him.

"Uhhh, yeah, I guess. Might not wanna talk to him like that when you see him, though," he warned with a nervous laugh.

Truthfully, taking her to see Xemnas was the last thing Demyx wanted to do, but the way her amethyst eyes bore into him right after witnessing her slaughter a mass of Heartless without an ounce of hesitation made him too wary to say no.

"Cool, cool…lead the way, Mr. Bowie," she mumbled, allowing her weapon – which Demyx now realized was probably one of those keyblades Xemnas was always prattling on about – to vanish from her grasp.

"Bowie? Wait, who's…" he tried to question her, but trailed off when the blonde swayed on her feet.

"Uh…you alright there?"

No sooner had he asked when she suddenly fell toward him. Yelping in alarm, Demyx barely managed to catch her by the shoulders, leaving her slumped awkwardly against his stomach.

He stood as still as a statue as he held up the unresponsive woman, brain running a mile a minute as it wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He was vastly unprepared to deal with something like this.

The thought of Xemnas looming over him with disapproval if he left a potential new member – one with a _keyblade_ at that – injured, alone, and left to the mercy of the Heartless finally kicked him into gear. With a grunt, Demyx gathered the woman up in his arms, blinking in faint surprise upon realizing she was lighter than expected. For someone as tall as she, he thought she'd at least weigh as much as his sitar, but he could probably heft her over one shoulder without a problem.

Up close, Demyx did vaguely notice her slightly sunken cheeks and waifish limbs.

Maybe she hadn't been eating well, or something?

Shrugging those thoughts away, the Melodious Nocturne ambled towards the castle, trying not to think of all the teasing he'd surely receive when he walked in carrying an unconscious woman.

_"I just wanted a few hours of peace, man…"_

**...**

_Two Weeks Earlier…_

_The world was engulfed in flames. The proud stone walls and pristine monuments were charred black, and the surrounding bodies had been burnt to unrecognition. She could taste the smoke in her lungs as she stumbled across her fallen brethren. The ruined insignia of a crow stared up at her from a guard's bloodied armor, mirroring the horrid state of her world. A sharp CLANG rang through the air, sparks flying off the meeting blades. A flash of long brown hair entered her peripherals. Then, a familiar, cozy little home tucked into the town's main square phased into existence, only to immediately be surrounded by a swarm of Heartless. Her heart dropped into her stomach. No, she couldn't let them in there! She couldn't lose one of the only things she had left! Without hesitation, she charged forth, unnoticing of the dark figure that followed her-_

Myra awoke with a start.

The ceiling of her bedroom blurred in and out of focus as her heart pounded beneath her ribs. Shakily, she sat up, brushing away the hairs that had stuck to her sweaty face.

Feeling dehydrated and more than a bit unnerved, the blonde padded to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. The same infuriating pair of violet eyes stared back at her when Myra eyed her weary face.

God, she missed the days when she recognized her own reflection.

Sighing heavily, she ran a hand through her tangled locks, frowning at how damp they were. "Gross," she muttered, turning on the shower.

Standing beneath the hot stream finally made her body stop trembling, though it did little to calm her racing thoughts.

That was the first dream she'd had since arriving in this world…and it was the most graphic out of all her previous dreams, without a doubt.

Myra could still smell the smoke if she thought about it for too long.

Something was different about this dream compared to the others. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it definitely rubbed her the wrong way.

Could that have been what Radiant Garden looked like the night she disappeared? The Heartless attack lined up with Diz's story, but he hadn't said anything about fire, not to mention a slew of dead bodies.

A chill raced down her spine despite the heat, and Myra quickly decided she no longer wanted to think about it. Although, it was difficult to ignore the lingering fear the dream had left her with.

An automatic thought of asking Diz about it occurred to her, only to be vetoed when she remembered that she didn't particularly care to speak with him at the moment.

A grunt of frustration tore from her throat as she recalled the less-than stellar reaction he'd had to her meeting with mystery cult man, and his straight up _ridiculous_ suggestion that followed it.

Honestly, what in the worlds could have possessed him to think for even a second that she'd be willing to _join_ that freakshow?

" _Xehanort may be a traitorous fool, but he is by no means stupid. If he's set his sights on you, then it's only a matter of time before he recruits you regardless of your wishes. He never did take rejection well."_

_"Wait, are you serious? That's it? You're actually suggesting that I just take him up on his offer, no questions asked!?"_

_"I am suggesting that it may be the safest, and wisest course of action for you at this point in time. We don't exactly have many options."_

_"What are you talking about!? We can't just, you know, leave or something!?"_

_"And go where, Marya? If Xehanort's influence has already reached a world as tiny as this one, who's to say where else he has his spies planted? He's seen your face, he even knows you're in possession of a keyblade! There is nowhere we can go that he won't follow! And if he happens to discover me as well whilst we're running aimlessly, all hope will be lost!"_

Myra's brows furrowed as the scientist's voice echoed in her head. Though she wasn't completely sure how she'd expected him to react, what she got from him certainly wasn't at the top of the list.

It had begun with his orange eyes flashing dangerously as his lips pulled into the same snarl they always did at the mention of his former apprentices.

But, as she explained the encounter in full, that snarl had slowly regressed into a stony, thoughtful expression that was somehow even more off putting.

Her words had caused some unseen shift in him. Something had _changed._

" _Think about it Marya,"_ she recalled his words clearer than day, as well as the excited gleam in his eye that appeared almost demented.

_"Xehanort is unaware of you and I's connection, as you vanished well before he came along. As far as he knows, you're just a random 'nobody' that was lucky enough to be chosen by the keyblade. This is our chance to pull one over on him! If you were to become a part of his so-called organization as my spy, we'd have direct insight on his plans! We'd be able to stop him in his tracks, and prevent anymore worlds from falling to darkness!"_

_"Wh-Wha…you've gotta be shitting me! Stopping that lunatic is your goal, not mine! I was just unceremoniously dumped here, remember!?"_

_"No, no, don't you see, Marya? All this time, we've been wondering why you were sent back now. Well, perhaps this is the reason! Why else would you appear before me? All the possible places you could have landed, all the possible individuals that could have discovered you, and yet this universe sent you to ME! It knows that it's in jeopardy from Xehanort's plans, and you were sent to help deliver it from his hands!"_

Myra had stormed out after that.

There was only so much absurdity she could take in the span of one day.

"Fuck him, fuck the universe, fuck Xehanort, and fuck all this _'sent by the heavens chosen one'_ shit. I never asked for any of this! I was perfectly content with my normal-ass life in my own normal-ass world. Fuck!" The blonde swore aloud as she angrily scrubbed her skin until it turned red.

Myra's anger was short lived however, as it normally was, and steadily gave way to melancholic numbness.

She knew Diz's revenge was important to him; and now she also knew it was apparently important enough to send his own daughter into the clutches of his enemy.

The sunlight had just begun pouring through the windows once Myra exited the bathroom. Needing to clear her head, she left the mansion without much thought.

The dewy morning grass crunched beneath her sneakers, the only noise to be had for company. Twilight Town was normally quiet, but especially first thing in the mornings.

As Myra's feet dragged behind her, she wondered what she should do now.

Diz wouldn't force her to go through with his suggestion, she knew that much – he _couldn't,_ considering she was the one with a magic weapon and not him.

However, the scientist's warning about Xehanort stuck with her more than she cared to admit.

For the extremely brief encounter she'd had with him, it wasn't difficult to tell that he was a man used to getting his way. If she continued to refuse him, Myra felt with trembling certainty that he would find some way to recruit her by force.

Then what?

Was she really screwed either way?

Her footsteps faltered as a haze of panic clouded her mind. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her hands went numb, and everything in her immediate vision doubled. Myra wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lip until she tasted blood.

She hated this, she _absolutely fucking hated this!_ As someone who was used to having control over most aspects of her life, nothing in her mental repertoire could prepare her for something like this.

Myra had already been thrust into an entire universe she didn't care about, now she had to be thrust into a role she didn't care about too!?

Did she _ever_ have a choice in any of this!?

A sudden _WHOOSH_ cut through the raging tempest that was her mind, and Myra had never been more infuriated to turn around and find a group of Heartless waiting for her.

"I'm not in the _fucking mood!"_ the blonde snapped, Nevermore flashing into her grasp.

However, just before she could charge, a white blur zipped past, and tackled several of the tiny shadows at once. Myra hardly had time to blink before two more slithered by, wrapping their tube-like bodies around the remaining Heartless.

Flabbergasted, the blonde watched the shadows struggle in the white creature's grips, but to no avail, as they popped shortly after. Myra reeled as the creatures straightened up into forms that were all too recognizable.

"Oh no! Hell no! Stay away from me!" she demanded, holding her blade out threateningly.

The creatures – Dusks, if she remembered correctly – wiggled out of her way as she inched past them, apparently not as eager for a fight as the Heartless had been.

"You tell your weirdo boss to go screw himself!" Myra sneered as she hightailed it back to the mansion.

Once safely back within its walls, she leaned against the front door and let her brave façade drop.

_"Xehanort's influence has already reached a world as tiny as this one, who's to say where else he has his spies planted?"_

Just how long had those weird things been watching her? Were they going to be there every time she stepped outside now?

Myra whimpered as she grasped her head, not sure whether to scream or cry. Instead, she bit down on her lip and all but yanked her attention towards something productive, something that may actually help her. If Diz wouldn't do anything, then she'd take matters into her own hands.

Just like she'd done her entire life.

_"God, I'm tired…"_

The scientist was absent from the basement when Myra tiptoed into it. Diz wasn't much of a morning person, which worked in her favor in this case.

Approaching the oddball of a computer, the blonde hesitantly reached for what she assumed was the power button. The PC beeped minutely upon booting up, and Myra awkwardly sat before it while she waited, watching the fields of code race up the screens.

Upon further observation, she discovered why the computer had so many keyboards; unlike the simplistic, multifunction keyboards of earth computers, the buttons on these boards served only one purpose per key. One keyboard had only lowercase letters, its twin had the uppercase counterparts, another only had numbers, and one had nothing but symbols, some of which Myra didn't even recognize.

If she weren't so high strung, she might have chuckled at the absurd design.

A window popped up on screen, making the blonde groan. "Password protected…should have guessed." '

Conveniently, the window did show a series of spaces, telling her exactly how many letters the password consisted of…not that it helped her actually decipher the damn thing.

"Thirteen letters…what the hell would Diz pick for a password that has thirteen letters?"

Leaning back in her seat, Myra jumped when her foot brushed against something. "Oh great…don't tell me he's a slob, too. As if dealing with Jung Soo and Charlie's messes weren't enough?" she remarked with a frown as she picked up a discarded wrapper from beneath the desk. Faintly, she recognized it as a wrapper for one of those ice cream bars Diz liked so much.

_"Wait…"_

Her eyes flitted from the computer back to the wrapper, brows furrowing thoughtfully.

"Holy…are you serious?"

Reading the label on the wrapper, Myra typed _Sea Salt Ice Cream_ into the computer, and sure enough, the window disappeared to reveal a disjointed mishmash of a desktop.

"Huh. Guess Estelle was right. Food really is every man's true love," she muttered with a shake of her head.

Navigating the disaster of a desktop took a minute – or twenty – to get the hang of, but eventually, Myra was shuffling through a multitude of virtual files. A good chunk of them consisted of long, meticulously detailed reports of bizarre experiments she didn't fully understand – more junk about light, darkness, and elements of the heart that shouldn't even be possible – but she'd seen enough science fiction to venture an educated guess as to what _some_ of them entailed.

Cold chills overtook her as she read a few select lines:

_Subject D was consumed within 8.4 seconds of the injection. Upon extraction of the heart, his body was quickly enveloped by the darkness. The consuming cloud's diameter was 3.6 centimeters wider than Subject B's. Currently unknown exactly how the injection affects the overall process. Further experimentation needed._

Myra pressed her lips into a thin line and shakily tapped out of the report. This wasn't what she was looking for.

Eventually, the reports turned from shady experiments to more supernatural phenomena that all but flew over her head.

_DTD._

_World Keyholes._

_Kingdom Hearts._

Even the bloody reports didn't seem to understand said subjects, containing a generous amount of _"theoretically speakings,"_ and _"possible outcomes"_ sprinkled throughout – which was basically fancy science talk for, _"we're just guessing."_

However, it seemed a myriad of educated guesses was all this man needed; the final report Myra pulled up outlined a detailed plan to purposefully turn himself into a Nobody in order to _"study"_ these events further.

"Jesus, this guy was nuts…" the blonde murmured aloud.

"I couldn't agree more."

To her credit, the blonde managed not to flinch despite the initial stab of panic in her chest. What did she have to be nervous about? It's not like she wasn't allowed to be down here, nor had Diz ever said she couldn't use his computer.

Slowly, Myra turned just so she could see the scientist behind her. His eyes were focused not on her, but on the file pulled up onscreen.

After several beats of thick silence, she awkwardly stood and moved out of the way for him. However, the scientist made no move to reclaim his seat. He simply continued to stare at the open report with hard eyes.

"A Nobody…you explained that to me once. It's like the opposite of a Heartless, right?" Myra finally said.

She'd come down here in hopes of learning more about Xehanort, perhaps uncover a hint that would help her escape him. Instead, everything she found just unearthed more questions. Questions that, if she wanted answers to, she had little choice but to swallow her pride and ask.

"…In a basic sense, yes," Diz answered after a pause, and Myra quietly sighed in relief.

Though he may not be all too happy with her at the moment – at least she assumed so, as his expression gave away little – it seemed he was still willing to answer her questions like usual.

"…When Xehanort approached me yesterday, he kept referring to himself and his…organization like they weren't regular people. I guess that's what he meant…" she muttered partially to herself. "But if he's not human, why does he still look like one?"

"There are many forms of Heartless and Nobodies. I'm unsure what determines them, but as most things in this universe, it probably has something to do with the strength of the heart that creates them," Diz replied in a somewhat clipped tone, finally moving to sit down. Knitting her brows, Myra crossed her arms thoughtfully. "That I mostly understand. What I _don't_ get is why he thought I was a nobody, too."

The scientist froze in the midst of typing something. "…Did he now?"

Myra suddenly found herself on the end of a cool orange stare. Unconsciously, she took a minute step back.

"As he knew of your possession of a keyblade, he's also probably aware that you can use the corridors as well. Normally, only beings of darkness can use those. That's likely why he mistook you for a Nobody."

The blonde shifted from one foot to the other. "Oh…" was her lackluster reply.

They lapsed into another silence, the monotonous humming and beeping of machinery wrapping them up in a flimsy blanket.

Diz made no efforts to engage in conversation, focusing entirely on the reports in the computer screens.

Upon scrambling for something more to say and coming up short, Myra finally left the basement.

Absently, she marveled at how easily a relationship could leap backwards just as quickly as it stepped forwards.

The nightmares persisted over the next few days.

Their themes were always in a similar vein, forcing her to stand amongst a battlefield while the world crumbled at her feet. Sometimes there would be fire and screaming while men and women that she didn't know, but felt like she should, killed one another around her. Other times there would be dead silence and darkness with smoke billowing into a scarlet sky, the pungent, sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh and ash lingering in her nose even after she woke.

Yet, even amongst such horrors, what Myra always remembered the most from these nightmares were the disjointed echoes of vehement arguing in voices that were faintly – and frighteningly – familiar.

Normally, she'd do her best to shake off such awful dreams, but the looming fear and anxiety that haunted her every step made the task all but impossible. If anything, she was certain it was only amplifying her nightmares.

Myra stopped leaving the mansion and blocked most of the windows with whatever she could, like a paranoid hermit fearing an incoming apocalypse. She took up practicing with Nevermore again, spending perhaps too much time in the courtyard swinging the oversized key to the point of exhaustion. Basic everyday living became a chore, each activity tainted by the dread of Xehanort appearing out of nowhere to take her away. All too soon, Myra found her physical health declining along with her mental health.

She'd wake up in cold sweats, her chest so heavy that breathing proved difficult. The act of standing or sitting up was always accompanied by a dizzy spell, her hands shook almost all the time, and her stomach began twisting into knots each time she tried to feed herself. No matter how long she slept, Myra always woke feeling as though she'd just pulled several all-nighters.

Diz eventually found out when, much to her embarrassment, she fled the breakfast table one morning to throw up in the kitchen's waste bin.

The scientist had then promptly confined her to bed, and provided soup and tea for her to drink down. The soup was so-so, but the tea was undoubtedly the best cup she'd ever had, not that she was going to tell him that.

Perhaps it was her muddled brain, but Myra thought Diz seemed almost frustrated that she hadn't told him she wasn't feeling well. Her immediate reaction was to scoff indignantly, because what right did he have to be worried after trying to send her off as his little _'spy'_ or whatever?

Later on, after the idea had sat in her mind for a bit, Myra's thoughts spun with confusion and – perhaps, if she were being honest, the slightest hint of relief.

Diz was undeniably a complicated person.

He'd been through shit that most people could never imagine.

He'd crawled up from the depths only to be literally _and_ metaphorically knocked back in deeper than before.

He'd lost so much, and gained back so little.

If this were a TV show or a film, Myra imagined Diz would take the role of the strict, but kind old mentor, the one who helped the protagonist through their troubles and trials, and cited his difficult past as the source of all his wisdom and strength.

But here, in this twisted up reality, Diz was just a hurt, traumatized, and angry human being who wanted to punch life the same way it had ruthlessly battered him.

Sometimes, she wondered if he had any room left in his heart with all the rage and pain that clearly filled it.

However, every once and a while, Myra caught a glimpse of something else, something besides the anger, coldness, or indifference that he normally showed.

Just like the warm cup of tea in her trembling hands, those glimpses gave her the teeniest bit of hope that the man she saw from her childhood dreams was still alive and kicking somewhere beneath all that darkness.

Diz was the only family she had left…she couldn't afford to give up on him so quickly, despite a dark part of herself whispering that the pain wouldn't be worth it if it didn't work out.

So, here she lay, exhausted and weakened, alone in a room that both did and didn't belong to her. Though her eyes were closed, Myra wasn't asleep by a long shot. Her head felt like it was filled with lead, and the anxious thoughts running amok inside it only made it worse.

How long would these nightmares endure?

Would her condition keep worsening the longer she had them?

She wasn't completely certain how, but she had a feeling that the dreams were somehow responsible for her sudden decline in health.

…Would Xehanort still insist on her joining him even if she wasn't well?

Hissing, Myra shivered and tightened her hold on the blankets.

She hated how afraid she was.

She was only just starting to get used to her new life – if you could even call it a _"life,"_ but that digressed.

Would she now be whisked away all over again, completely against her will in order to fulfill some BS _"purpose"_ that she wanted no part of?

Screw the deities of this universe! Who did they think they were, yanking her around like this!?

What right did they have to decide what her life should be used for!?

" _Don't be selfish."_

The darkness squirmed beneath her ribs, stealing away her breath.

When Myra pried her eyes partially open, she was no longer in her room.

A dark, milky fog enveloped the area as far as she could see.

She couldn't tell what she was laying on, nor could she move or speak.

It was as if she'd been trapped in some limbo between sleep and wakefulness, and she might have been freaked out if not for the fact that her chest and head seemed empty of any emotion.

A strange sense of déjà vu crossed over her just as a fell voice whispered through the fog:

" _Did you really think you'd be able to wield a keyblade without any consequence?"_ the distorted voice reprimanded. _"Once you obtain a keyblade, your life no longer belongs merely to you. You are now part of something far greater than an outsider like you could ever fully understand."_

Myra dimly felt herself flinch. _"But why…I never wanted…why?"_ she thought.

_"It does not matter why. All that matters is that you cease this cowardice. How much longer do you plan on sulking about doing nothing when you should be out fighting for the sake of our world?"_

" _This ISN'T my world. My world is gone, far out of my reach. This universe's problems aren't mine, and it doesn't need me!"_

An icy gust of wind scraped across her skin.

 _"Oh?"_ the voice drawled, almost mockingly.

_"So you are certain that this universe will be just fine, then? This meager collection of worlds, which is losing more and more of itself to the darkness every day, will prevail in its current state? Some hero will come along and save it in the nick of time?"_

Myra had no response for several long moments.

 _"How do you know that won't happen?"_ was her weak reply.

 _"Because the same thing happened to MY world!"_ the voice boomed, causing the air to vibrate. _"I will not idly sit by_ _and watch the same tragedy befall the rest of this pitiful universe! Is that what YOU want? To pretend that all is well, and you hold no responsibility for what may happen? Even if this very world and all its residents are consumed by the darkness!?"_

The faces of three innocent kids flashed through Myra's mind as if to mock her.

 _"…I'm not a hero,"_ she whispered feebly.

_"Indeed, you are not. But you can pave the way so that the true saviors can rise up."_

The voice's words cut through her like the edge of a sharp puzzle piece, falling one by one into the large pile of unanswered questions. The voice clearly knew several things that she didn't, but she doubted it would be so kind as to clue her in.

It seemed so…different from the last time she spoke to it. Perhaps it was one of the forces using her, and it had only acted kind upon their first meeting to get her to do what it wanted.

If that was the case…was there even any point in trying to fight back?

"… _Just take the keyblade back. I don't want it,"_ Myra begged.

A strange hush fell over the area. _"…I'm afraid it's too late for that, now. Far too late."_ The voice seemed to growl with resentment, though towards what, Myra didn't know.

_"Now, you must make haste. The Darkness is spreading, and if you don't act soon-"_

A harsh crackling pierced the air, and Myra watched dumbfounded as the environment began to viciously tremble. The fog dispersed as a deafening _CRACK_ rang out, bright white fissures appearing in the blackness.

_"No, no! I am not yet finished! Damn you, La-"_

Myra shot up with a gasp. Clutching her chest, the blonde groaned in pain. It felt as though something was repeatedly driving a blunt object through her ribcage, and _holy fuck_ did it hurt!

She sucked air through her teeth as the pain gradually subsided, leaving only the growingly familiar unnamed presence that lingered within her.

Myra sat still for several long moments, the voice's heated demands clanging around in her skull.

_"Did you really think you'd be able to wield the keyblade without any consequences?"_

_"Should you choose to accept my help, the days ahead will be most difficult for you."_

Wordlessly, Myra rose from her bed, swaying only a little. Her bare feet padded on the cold floor as she made her way to the basement.

Diz heard her footsteps as she approached, and he turned to meet her with a disapproving glance. "You should not be-"

"If I agree to your plan, will you be able to stop Xehanort?"

The scientist's mouth parted in silent wonder. "…Pardon?"

The blonde clenched her shaking fists. "With my help – if I join that organization for you – do you truly believe we could stop him?"

Diz blinked slowly. "I believe that our chances would be significantly better," he finally replied.

Myra pursed her lips, trying not to sigh with frustration. She didn't know why she ever expected a clear-cut answer from him. Regardless, the blonde knew any further resistance had already been stripped away from her, along with any hope that she may one day live normally again.

"…I'll do it," she uttered sourly.

Diz regarded her with that same unreadable mask, stretching out the silence to an uncomfortable degree.

Finally, he turned back around and said, "Go lie back down for a bit longer. When you are strong enough, we will begin preparing for your departure."

That was it.

No argument.

No asking what made her decide to do it.

Not even a thank you.

It was almost as though he'd expected her to cave at some point.

The sad thing was, Myra couldn't even muster the will to be angry at that thought.

Outrage was pointless. It wouldn't change a thing.

Not.

A single.

Fucking.

Thing.

She was stuck.

After mumbling an "okay," the blonde shuffled away, paying no mind to the tears running down her cheeks.

So, prepare they did. For several days, Diz sat her down and gave what essentially boiled down to part two of, _"the great lecture regarding this universe's differences and how to deal with them/pretend you know how to deal with them."_ Except this time, the subject revolved around the six men who Diz previously mentored.

The scientist talked of them as if were reading off a fan-made character wiki; he recalled how and when he met each one, described their individual areas of expertise, and mentioned whatever obscure detail that popped into his mind, from Dilan's favorite snack to how aggravated Even would get when Braig left his cigarettes lying around where Ienzo could get them.

Whenever his lectures wandered too far into reminiscing territory, Diz stopped, made a face, and declared they pick up where they left off at a later time.

Between the lectures/impromptu trips down memory lane, they ironed out all the finer details of the plan; a false backstory was formed, Diz clarified what he wanted her to look for and how he wanted it reported, and emergency procedures were put into place should she be discovered.

Predictably, the scientist remained quite calm throughout the process, making it seem as though she was going on a business trip instead of joining a dangerous organization on behalf of both him and some unattached voice.

Meanwhile, Myra's nerves remained alight and on edge to the point that eating and sleeping were still a chore. Each passing day was spent in a haze of denial and weary resignation of what she was about to do.

Although, the nightmares had mercifully lessened, as if the voice had deigned to _"reward"_ her for finally making the right decision.

She was finally going off to fulfill her messed up _"purpose"_ or whatever.

Goody.

The day arrived. Diz declared that he'd told her all she needed to know going in, and it was best that she go quickly before Xehanort came back to look for her.

Because any and all hope had left her, Myra made no effort to argue; however, that didn't put a stop to all of her worries.

"You're sure they won't recognize me?" she asked as they stood by the front door.

"They shouldn't. None of them ever met you. Even, Aeleaus, and Dilan were the only ones apprenticed under me before you left. Ienzo was barely two years of age at the time of your disappearance, and Xehanort and Braig did not come into the picture for several years after," Diz replied grudgingly, clearly hesitant to discuss the topic.

Myra's brows knitted together at his answer – or rather, the unsaid truths his answer suggested.

Why did he never introduce her to any of his apprentices, who he clearly thought of as family? Sure, it's possible he wasn't as close with them at that point, but it struck her as a bit odd that never once, in the six years she'd spent in Radiant Garden, had any of them come across her.

Had none of them ever inquired about her?

Well, she had merely been a small child at the time, so it's possible they just hadn't been interested, she supposed.

But Diz's obscure answer and his unspoken reluctance to elaborate left Myra with a vague feeling of disappointment, and the sense that there was something he wasn't telling her.

Well.

What did it matter at this point?

Nodding, Myra turned to reach for the doorknob.

"You remember our first regrouping day, yes?" the scientist inquired.

"Next Thursday…I'll be here."

_Hopefully._

The blonde slowly turned the knob.

"…There's leftovers in the freezer. Remember to eat them," she advised after a moment's hesitation.

"…Right. Of course," Diz replied, sounding mildly abashed.

Sucking in a long breath, Myra finally opened the door with a long _creeeaaak._

She took a step forward –

\- And stopped when a hand descended harshly on her shoulder.

Turning, the blonde glanced quizzically at the scientist. Diz blinked, staring at his hand as though he didn't recognize it through spooked orange eyes. "I-" he stammered, hiding his hands behind his back. "Forgive me, I…don't know what came over me."

Myra studied the scientist silently, lips pursing as she considered saying something.

She was _really_ no good at comforting others.

"I…I'll come back," she murmured.

Tentatively, Myra allowed her eyes to dart up and meet his reserved expression.

"I'll come back," she repeated, slightly louder.

His orange eyes shifted beneath his hood.

"I know."

Nodding just for the sake of it, the blonde turned again to leave, and this time, nothing obstructed her.

Four Dusks appeared the moment she stepped outside the mansion's gates. They stood a comfortable distance away from her, probably in case she decided to pull her weapon on them again.

This time, Myra lowered her head and said, "I'm…accepting his offer."

The Dusks seemed to look at each other, wiggling their limbs back and forth like some sort of bizarre sign language. Then, they waved in her direction before stalking off. Assuming they wanted her to follow, Myra moved after them, but not before casting a backwards glance at the place she'd called her home for the past two months.

A familiar, dark silhouette stood in the window of the second floor, and though she couldn't see his face from here, she knew he was looking right at her.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Myra hurriedly turned away and jogged after the Dusks.

The nobodies danced and cartwheeled as they led her deeper into the forest, where the light struggled to penetrate through the trees.

Eight pairs of beady eyes stared down at her from the branches.

Myra wrapped her arms around herself to contain her shivering, and prayed to whatever god might be listening that this wasn't some kind of trick.

She wasn't particularly in the mood to be murdered in the woods.

The Dusks came to a stop by a deformed tree. They stood across from each other, forming a straight path right towards it. Puzzled, Myra approached the tree, reaching out to lay a hand against the stained bark.

_"I swear, if this thing starts moving like in Narnia-"_

No sooner had the thought entered when the presence inside her pulsed. With a gasp, she snatched her hand back as a dark smog emerged from the tree. Slowly, it leaked from the wood until it formed a door-shaped entrance.

Myra shuddered. The portal was inky black, and the air surrounding it was far colder than it should have been.

God, she did _not_ want to go in that thing. It looked far worse than the corridors…and this time, she didn't have anyone to brave it with her.

As if sensing her unease, the Dusks brushed past her and disappeared into the portal. Focusing on the ground, Myra held her breath and stepped through the entrance.

Just like the corridors, she couldn't hear a thing once inside. To make things even better, she couldn't _see_ a thing either, leaving her with no other choice but to take one trembling step at a time through the darkness.

She was bizarrely reminded of a haunted house she once went into at Six Flags with Charlie – except that experience was somehow worse, now that she thought about it. The whole place had smelled like rubbing alcohol and the only light sources had been entirely focused on the disgusting displays and animatronics, leaving Myra to have her ears blown out each time Charlie screeched in terror when bumping into something in the dark. He's the one that had wanted to go in so damn badly, and then he kept his eyes shut the whole time while trying to pull her arm out of its socket as she guided them through it.

Somehow, the memory comforted her, and she clung to it until she felt her feet land on something solid at long last. The black haze cleared, slinking away into the newly appeared concrete wall behind her.

Myra pressed a hand to the side of her head as her vision suddenly swam. Slowly sinking to her knees, the blonde took deep, wobbly breaths. Though her body shook with chills, her chest felt like it was on fire.

Wiry, unnatural limbs wrapped around her arms. Flinching, she snapped her gaze up, relaxing minutely when she realized it was only the Dusks. The Nobodies helped her to her feet, surprisingly strong for their slight forms. Myra swayed, but managed to remain upright.

"Fuck…" she whispered.

Her lack of decent food and sleep must be catching up to her.

Her vision more-or-less came into focus, allowing her to see the Dusks in front of her, rocking in place as they waited. Giving a slight nod, the blonde followed the Nobodies out of what she now realized was an alleyway.

Myra squinted as she gazed up (regretting it immediately as the action made her dizzy) and mouthed a silent _"what?"_

Granted, she wasn't totally certain what she'd been expecting – a dark cathedral overcome with gothic architecture in the middle of a creepy forest, maybe? – but she definitely didn't expect an imitation of the big cities back on earth.

Suddenly, it was like she was back in downtown Dallas, with the notable exception of Dusks wandering around and an absence of litter on the streets.

The posse of Dusks gestured towards her to keep following. Myra clumsily did so, trying to focus only on placing one foot forward and not on the pounding in her head. The Nobodies walked languidly ahead, their pace notably slower than before.

For a group of faceless, inhuman husks, they sure were courteous.

After an indecipherable amount of minutes, an unwelcome _WHOOSH_ turned her attention behind them. Much to her chagrin, a whole hoard of Heartless had popped in to welcome her.

"No, no, not now, I _can't-"_

Nevermore appeared despite her protests, feeling much heavier than it should have.

The Dusks slithered around her and lunged at the hoard.

But the Heartless had their sights set squarely on her.

Swearing, Myra took full advantage of the rush of adrenaline and dashed off.

Her lungs protested immediately, and once she'd run far enough, the blonde jerked into a narrow alley. She threw a hand over her mouth to muffle her coughs, struggling to draw oxygen back into her weakened body.

God, she couldn't go on like this…she needed help.

But who here would help her?

Suddenly, Myra felt the darkness inside her lurch, and a corridor opened up behind her. Clutching her keyblade tighter, she stumbled through it without question.

The corridor spit her out a few seconds later, and she ungracefully tumbled out – right into the hoard of Heartless.

Before she could react, the invisible puppeteer took hold of her again, dragging her unceremoniously to her feet. Against her brain's demands, Myra found herself once again hacking and slashing through the dark creatures, though with far less ease than usual. It was by nothing short of a miracle that she managed not to fall over her own feet, for if she did, the blonde had a feeling she wouldn't have gotten back up.

Once the last Heartless had been eliminated, Myra hunched over with her hands on her knees, desperately trying to get air into her blazing lungs.

The street looked fuzzier than it should have, but that didn't stop her from spotting the black form out of the corner of her eye slowly inching closer.

Gritting her teeth, the blonde stabbed Nevermore through the straggler with a little more force than necessary, the blade clanging harshly against the pavement.

"Fuck!" she grunted, raising a trembling hand to her forehead.

Then-

"Uh…"

Her chest seized at the voice, forcing her fatigued body to whirl around, keyblade poised to strike-

"Ack! Wait, wait, wait!"

Now, Myra was absolutely certain that she was hallucinating.

Once the world stopped spinning, she found herself face-to-face with _David_ _fucking_ _Bowie_.

…Or at least, a guy that looked like him.

Blinking rapidly, she dragged her gaze up and down the Bowie clone. The black ensemble he wore was the same as the mystery man's back in the forest, so he must be a part of the organization.

If Myra were in a different state of mind, she probably would have laughed.

Instead of the creepy, dead-eyed individuals that she'd imagined, the first member she met was a copy of one of her favorite artists.

Damn, this universe really loved screwing with her.

David Bowie doppelganger was eyeing her with visible discomfort, making her register that she'd been openly staring at him for several moments. Lowering Nevermore, Myra looked away and said, "Are you part of the… _organization_ I'm supposed to be joining?"

His eyes widened. "Huh!?"

The blonde watched as a series of panicked expressions flew across his face in a matter of seconds, finally settling on a nervous smile. "Ohhh, you must that new member the boss told us about!"

Well, he definitely didn't _sound_ like David Bowie.

Sighing at her train of thought, Myra blinked back the black spots forming in her vision. "Yeah, yeah…do me a solid and take me to the bastard, will you please? I can't take anymore of these stupid ass Heartless today."

"Uhh, yeah, I guess. Might not wanna talk to him like that when you see him, though," David Bowie lookalike agreed, reluctance lining his tone.

"Cool, cool...lead the way, Mr. Bowie."

The last thing she registered was David-not-Bowie asking her something before her body finally succumbed to its exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning to all my fellow writers:
> 
> Hold on to your muse. Don't let her out of your sight. Tuck her away in a cozy, easily-accessible corner of your brain. Otherwise, she might wander away when you least expect it. Then you'll find her having an affair with an entirely different fandom, feeding you inspiration and motivation to write everything except the story you're supposed to be writing. Then nearly two months will have passed without your notice, and you have no choice but to tie her up and forcefully drag her back so you can update the story you already committed yourself to.
> 
> Take care of your muse. Don't be a whore.
> 
> A message from your family-friendly fanfiction writer.
> 
> Reviews & Constructive Criticism are always appreciated. :)


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